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Amono the few tribes of Indians in New England never 
seduced by the powder and promises of the English, the 
Pequods were most numerous and fierce. Their hunting- 
grounds were situated in Connecticut, and their principal 
seat was upon the Mystic river. The English, following 
their customs in regard to the savages, sent commissioners 
to this tribe, who were received by the savages with sullen 
indifference, and a disposition was constantly shown to 
break out into open mutiny. They had always looked upon 
the coming of the whites as a bad thing for them, and made 
war upon the chief, Massasoit, because he had received the 
strangers kindly. Their bands roved about the country, 
from the mouth of the river to the borders of Massa- 
chusetts, committing all sorts of depredations upon the 
settlers. In the year 1634, two commissioners and traders, 
Captains Stone and Norton, visiting the tribe, were 
treacherously murdered. In August of the same year, the 
entire family of a settler, named "Weeks, was destroyed. 

Our forefathers were not the men to take these matters 
coolly. Preparations were at once set on foot to break 
the power of this warlike tribe. They were not yet pre- 
pared for the open rupture, and seeing that they had 


aroused the ire of the English, they did their best to allay 
the flame. With true Indian cunning, they consented to 
meet the English in council, and sent messengers to the 
Governor of the colonies, Josiah Winslow. He received 
them sternly, and ordered the messengers to return and 
call the chiefs to the council. They sent a deputation in 
answer to this demand. 

It was in the latter part of August, when the three 
chiefs who formed the embassy came into Boston, return- 
ing the angry looks of the citizens whom they passed with 
interest. They were led by the soldier who had been sent 
out to conduct them into the presence of Winslow, who 
sat in the council-chamber of his mansion, surrounded by 
the men of mark, who had been chosen to guide the affairs 
of the colonies. They were men for the times — men who 
were chosen by nature to be the founders of a great 
people. With a gravity and decorum only equalled by 
that of the Indians themselves, they waited for the entrance 
of the savage deputation. 

The leader of the savages was a tall chief, with a neck- 
lace of panther-claws about his brawny neck. He had 
the long, straight locks of the Indian, crowned by the 
eagle-feathers of a chief. A belt of wampum was passed 
about his waist and knotted over the right hip. Into this 
was thrust the knife and hatchet which their habitual 
caution causes them to wear at all times. His face was of 
the Roman cast, and his compressed lips and lofty air 
spoke the hereditary chieftain, conscious of his power. 

His companions were ordinary chiefs, not so richly 
dressed as the one who entered first, and stood in the 


centre of the great apartment. There sat Winslow, the 
brains of the council in state matters ; Endicott, the 
captain of the forces of the colony ; and a score of others, 
afterward famous in the annals of our early Indian wars. 

Standing just behind the Governor's chair, stood a young 
man, who, as he will bear a prominent place in this 
chronicle, deserves mention. He was of middle size, but 
showing, whenever he moved, a power of muscle scarcely 
to be looked for. He had a quick, active eye, an open 
face, showing an indomitable will. This was Captain John 
Mason, a man who had already distinguished himself in the 
Indian wars of his own colony. He was dressed in a green 
hunting-garb, which he had adopted as the uniform of his 
men, over whom his epaulet showed his rank. Leaning 
upon the back of the Governor's chair, he listened to his 
questions and answered them, until the entrance of the 
savages, when he stood erect and looked at them. They 
seemed somewhat disconcerted at seeing Captain Mason, 
and paused a moment, as if meditating retreat. But the 
pride of the leading chief overcame the momentary fear his 
presence created, and he looked steadily at the Governor. 

" The chiefs of the Pequods are here," said he. " They 
have come from the far land of the Pequods, because the 
old father sent for them. The Pequods have learned to 
reverence grey hairs, and they have come at the call of the 
grey head. Has the old father anything to say ? " 

" Who is it that speaks ? " said Winslow. " He should 
have a name." 

" Mennawan is the brother of Sassacus, head sachem of 
the Pequod nation. When he rises to speak in their 



councils, the old men listen to his words. The Narragan- 
setts know him. They have heard his voice upon the war- 
path, and when he walks the woods, they hide from him ir 
the caves. The Mohegans, who are dogs and the sons oi 
dogs, tremble at the name of Mennawan." 

" It is well," said Winslow. " "We are very glad that 
so great a chief as Mennawan has come, for we have some- 
thing to say which he must ring in the ears of his brother. 
The English would be at peace with the Pequods. All 
men are brothers." 

" How ! " said the chief. " Is not my skin red ? " 

No man knew better than Winslow how to deal with a 
proud chief, and his answer was apt : — 

" My red brother is right. My skin is white and his is 
red. But what of that ? The blood of my heart is as red 
as the chief's." 

Mennawan bowed in silence. "The old father has 
spoken well, and Mennawan is now sure that all men should 
be brothers. The Pequods will be so to the white men." 

" Do brothers turn the edge of the hatchet against each 

" Who have done so? " 

" The Pequods have been upon the war-path. Two 
men were sent into the country of the Pequods. They 
went to get fur, and were willing to sell powder and shot 
for it. They never came back ; has my brother heard of 
these men ? " 

" Mennawan is not a liar. He has heard that such men 
came into the land of the Pequods. He spoke to them 
himself, and bade them not stay in the land of the Pequods. 


The white men had not done well by the Pequods, and 
they were angry. The old men did their best to keep the 
young men quiet. But they were hungry for scalps. They 
followed the white chiefs when they left the Pequod vil- 
lage. When the young men had slain our white brothers, 
they dared no more come back to our villages. They 
wander about in the woods, and sleep in the tree-tops and 
in the dens of bears. If they come into the village of the 
Pequods, they will take them and cut the broad mark of 
the tribe from their breasts, and turn them loose in the 
woods again. The hearts of our chiefs are right." 

" We have been told that a white man and his family 
have been killed by your young men upon the banks of the 
great river. All were slain — the man, his wife, and six 
children. This work also was done by Pequods," said 

" This is true. It is not for Mennawan to deny it. But 
the dogs who took the scalps of the two traders were those 
who killed the white man, his squaw and pappooses. 
Mennawan is sorry, but they are in the woods." 

" What reason do they give for killing them ? " asked 

" They had never spoken with the great father," said 
the wily chief, " and found that all men are brothers. They 
had lived so long in the woods that they had learned to 
believe that the banks of the great river belonged to the 
Pequods, and that white men had no business to come upon 
the lands of the Pequods. They are young, and their 
blood is hot." 

The council could not fail to see the sarcasm conveyed 


in the words of the chief. He wished them to understand 
that the English had no right to build upon the banks of 
the Connecticut. 

" These foolish young men say," continued the chief, 
" that they can no longer paddle their great canoe down to 
the great water to take fish, because they have to paddle 
under the great guns of the Yengees, and they fear the 
big thunder. It scares away the deer. I myself have 
passed by, where trees that have grown since our grand- 
fathers were buried, have been laid low. This is not good 
in the eyes of the Indians. They are afraid, if this keeps 
on, there will not be a tree upon the banks of the river, 
which will give them shade when they are tired. Perhaps 
they were wrong to think so. Of course they were, since 
the grey-heads say it ; and yet, as I look about me, what 
do I see '? I stand upon the land of the Wampanoags, and 
it is not the same. When the feet of Mennawan last 
pressed it (he was young then), a tree grew upon the spot 
where he stands, and he killed a deer under its branches. 
If Mennawan were a brave of the Pequods, and not a chief, 
he might think as they do, that the Yengees score the earth 
too hard with their axes." 

" Chief, what mean you ?" 

" It is not well that men should come into the hunting- 
grounds of the Indians, who will not let the trees grow. 
If they cut away all the trees in the woods, a chief must 
travel many a weary mile before he can kill a deer. He 
would have hard work to feed his hungry children his 
squaws and pappooses." 

" You are wandering, chief. Speak to the point. "What 


shall be done with the men of your tribe who have killed 
our brothers ?" 

'• It is the first time since the Pequods were a nation 
that they had to speak to another for their deeds. But 
let it be so. Sassacus would have peace, and he is chief 
sachem of the tribe. If a man of the Pequods has done a 
wrong to the Yengees, he shall suffer for it." 

" Sassacus says well. He is a great chief. Our captain 
lias told us what we ought to do, to protect ourselves 
from these outrages. Mr. Secretary, by your favour, read 
to the council the articles we have drawn up. 

The Secretary rose, taking up a parchment which lay 
before him. Upon this was written the articles of an 
agreement, in substance as follows : — 

The Pequods shall deliver to the English all who have 
been concerned in the murder of the two English captains 
or of the Weeks family. And in future, in case outrages 
were committed, the chiefs were to deliver all concerned. 
The next article gave up to the English all that portion 
of land lying within the limits of the colony of Connec- 
ticut ; and they were to treat the settlers kindly in all 
cases, and not make war upon the Indian allies of the 
English. The third article gave to Englishmen desiring 
to trade with the tribe perfect security at all times, while 
in the land of the Pequods. 

Captain Mason, who understood the language of the 
Pequods, translated the articles for the benefit of the 
chiefs, who listened with great attention to the statement. 
When it was finished, the three gravely gave their assent 
through Mennawan, who had acted as spokesman. 



"The chiefs have heard the words of wisdom which are 
set down upon the talking-paper. They are glad to do 
something for their white friends, and what they ask is 
only just. The men who have killed the Yengees are no 
longer the friends of the Pequods. We will send braves 
into the woods, who will find them in the holes into which 
they have crawled for shelter. We will bring them bound 
to the grey head. Is it not well said, chiefs of the 

"It is well r" said Wequash, one of the chiefs. 

" The words of Mennawan have found a way into the 
heart of Imbotam. He is a chief of the Pequods. It is 
well," answered the other. 

" My father will give this talking-paper to the chiefs. 
They will carry it to the tribe, and every sachem will put 
his mark upon it," said Mennawan. 

Winslow handed him the paper. He folded it up and 
put it in his bosom. 

" There is a little more to say," said Mennawan. " The 
Narragansetts have been the enemies of the Pequods. But 
Miantonomah, chief of the Narragansetts, is no longer so, 
since he has smoked a pipe with the Yengees. Let me 
go, then, and find the chief, that I may smoke a pipe in 
the name of my people." 

"Ugh!" said Wequash; "this is good." The other 
chief signified his assent. 

" Miantonomah is here," said a stern voice. "Let Men- 
nawan look him in the face." 

As he spoke, the great head of the Narragansett nation 
stepped out in front of the rest, and regarded his former 


enemy with fixed earnestness. Mennawan returned his 
gaze. The chief of the Narragansetts was a noble type of 
his race, descended from that Canonicus who held power 
when the English landed at Plymouth. This haughty 
chief sent, as a declaration of war, to the Governor Brad- 
ford a bundle of arrows wrapped in rattlesnake skin. The 
Governor filled the skin with powder and shot and returned 
it. The sachem thought better of it, and made a treaty 
with the English. From that time they had been friendly 
to the English, and the treaty with Canonicus had been 
continued under Miantonomah. 

" Sachem of the Narragansett," said Mennawan, proudly, 
" the chief of the Pequods never yet met the man whom he 
dared not look in the face. But why should he boast ? He 
is not unknown ; his deeds were not done in a comer. He 
has struck those who were his enemies with a heavy hand. 
Many scalps hang in his lodge." 

i; And is the name of Miantonomah never heard in the 
wigwams of the Pequods ? " asked the sachem, laying his 
hand upon his arm. 

' ; Mennawan cannot lie. The hand of the sachem has 
been in battle, and many Pequods have died by his weapon. 
Many have been slain upon both sides. It is well then, 
since the old chief has told us that we are brothers (and if 
the white men are our brothers, whose blood alone is like 
ours, surely we, whose skin and blood are both dark, ought 
to be so), that we make peace." 

" The land of the Narragansett is very wide," replied 
Miantonomah. " It is more than a bird's flight from this 
to the Pequods. Why then should we quarrel, since both 


have enough. There are deer in the land of the Pequods as 
well as in that of the Narragansetts. We are ready to be 
friends of our red brothers." 

"It is many years, Miantonomah, since the Yengees landed 
upon these shores. The red men were happy. They fought 
each other when they were angry, and made peace when 
they were tired. The fish they drew from the great Salt 
Lake and the rivers gave them food. Want never came 
into their wigwams. These strangers came. When Canoni- 
3us sent them a bundle of arrows, they sent back powder 
md shot. We did not know what powder and shot were 
;hen. We have learned since. But the Pequods have not 
jeen friendly to the Yengees. They were foolish enough 
;o think that the land was their own, and the Yengees had 
10 right to drive them from their own land. They were 
vrong ; the Narragansetts have taught them better, and 
hey ought to be glad." 

At this cut at his nation's subserviency to the English, 
Vliantonomah frowned angrily, and Mennawan, seeing that 
le had galled him, artfully failed to press the point, and 
vent on : — 

" The Pequods see that all who are friends with the 
fengees do well. Even the Mohegans, who are dogs, and 
he sons of dogs, are braver since they have made the Yen- 
fees their friends. They are not fools, and they want 
jowder, and shot, and muskets. Why should we not do as 
hey have clone ? " 

Miantonomah smiled grimly. He began to understand 
he peaceful mood of the chief. 

" Let there be peace between us," said he. " If wc „. ». 


tired of keeping quiet, it is very easy for us to dig up the 

" Must we be friends with the Mohegans ? " asked Men-' 
nawan, turning to the captain. 

'• Yes," replied Mason. " The Mohegans are friends 
with the English." 

" Let the ' Indian Slayer ' listen," said the chief. " The 
Mohegans can never be the true friends of the Pequods. 
We will not make war upon them, because they are the 
servants of the Yengee. But they are dogs." 

" Uncas would make that assertion of you, probably." 

" Uncas is a man," cried Mennawan. " He has taken 
scalps. But the hair of his own scalp-lock shall dry in a 
Pequod lodge." 

" Let that pass. It is the order of the Governor that 
you make ready for your return. Come to the fort, and 
you shall receive presents for the chiefs." 

Mennawan and his associates passed from the council, 
led by Mason, who had already received the name of 
" Indian Slayer " from the tribes. The next day they re- 
turned, taking with them the presents they had received, 
and the parchment upon which the articles of the treaty 
were set down. 



Captain Endicott met Mason, after the departure of 
the chiefs, outside the Governor's house. His countenance 
was bright, as he took the latter by the hand. 


" This matter is happily settled, John," said he. 

The face of John Mason showed no answering bright- 
ness. He turned away with a sigh. 

" Look you, Endicott," said he ; "I am not in favour of 
any treaty with the Pequods, because it is not in their 
natures to keep them. Treachery is as natural for them as 
to lope through the woods. All that Mennawan may say 
will not serve to convince me that he is in earnest in this 

" How say you, Sir Captain ! Do you think he will fail 
in any of the terms f 

" Ay ! Do we not know the hatred of the tribe to any- 
thing English? They have sworn to possess again their 
hunting-grounds, upon which Hartford now stands. My 
word for it — the word of a soldier who never failed — 
treachery was in the mind of Mennawan when he made this 
treaty. Again, he said that the men who murdered my 
friends so treacherously were in the woods. They may 
be, but I know that the scalps were borne into the Pequod 
village by those murderers, elevated upon a pole, and all 
the village came out to do them honour. Did you hear 
the conversation between Mennawan and the sachem of the 
Narragansetts ?" 

" I understand not their language." 

" He spoke of the happiness the Indians enjoyed before 
we came, and galled the proud sachem to the quick by 
bringing up his subserviency to us. Do not be surprised 
if, before many days, you hear that the Pequods are in the 
wigwams of the Narragansetts. Not all your power I 
am fearful, after you have suffered them to make peace 


with Miantonomah, will keep them friendly. I know his 
proud spirit was touched by the underhand reproaches of 

" I doubt this, John. Much as I honour your judgment 
in most matters, I must still say that I think the peace will 
be final." 

" No peace will be final with Sassacus, sachem of the 
Pequods. He is a man of noble, independent spirit, 
though a savage. I have met him ; and though he may 
allow this treaty to stand for a while, yet he will break out 
again when time serves him. I have seen more of the 
Pequods than you, and the Romans were not prouder of 
their origin than they. The smaller tribes hold them in 
great awe, and are tributary to them. They hate the 
Mohegans with the most deadly hatred, because they have 
always been our friends. You will understand from this 
that they cannot be fast friends to us, since they hate our 

" But they sought peace with the Narragansetts." 

" True ; but the Narragansetts are the most powerful 
enemies they have, and they hope to keep them quiet, even 
though they will not help them, when they break out again. 
We, who dwell in Connecticut, are in the most danger, and 
hence I am hot upon the subject. If you could have 
looked, as I did, upon the dreadful scenes of our frontier — 
if you had seen the Weeks family, scalped and bloody, 
lying amid the smoking ruins of their house, you would 
say, as I say to-day, no quarter to the accursed savages. 
Strike, and spare not." 

" Did you come up alone from Hartford, John?" 



" Not so. I was attended by Salvation Green, an honest 
man, though not fair to look upon." 

" Mine honest friend, Salvation ! "Where may we find 
him ? I would fain enjoy an hour's chat with him before 
you go hence." 

" If that be your desire, yonder he sits, under the 
boughs of the elms. See you what he hath in his hand ? 
There is nothing of use or ornament which Salvation can- 
not carve with his knife. Let us go and see what he has 

They walked on, and joined the object of their conversa- 
tion, who sat under an elm, by the side of the street upon 
which they stood. He was a remarkable character, this 
henchman of John Mason. In person, as he sat under the 
tree, he appeared to be of ordinary height ; but, as he un- 
wound his long legs, which had been coiled under him as 
he sat on the ground, and rose to meet his friends, he 
showed an altitude of six feet four inches. He was one 
of those " double-jointed " men found only in America; 
whose real power is only known when it is tried. If the 
time had been a century later, he would have been called a 
representative Yankee, if the old true description of these 
famous men is the true one. His hair was of that unhappy 
description known as "tow," and his friends frequently 
awakened his ire by comparisons between it and the wool 
of a sheep. His head was set upon a remarkably long 
neck, and, as if the weight of the first member were too 
much for the last, he carried it very much on one side. 
His eyes were blue, and their good-natured fight almost 
redeemed the homeliness of his figure. But bis mouth was 


the final blot upon his unlucky face. Description of it is 
not necessary, further than to say that one of his wild 
comrades in the company of Captain Mason, made the 
remarkably sweeping assertion, that, when he opened his 
mouth, his head was half off. 

He had been whittling, for at this early date our frontier 
men had that dexterous sleight with the jack-knife which 
has since become historic. Mason stooped, and took up 
the box which still lay upon the ground, and found what 
he had been doing. A perfect set of chessmen, with the 
exception of a single rook which he held, partly finished, 
in his hand, lay in the box. The pawns were archers, with 
arrows drawn to the head. The castles had flags waving 
from the turrets, and the knights were mounted, with 
spears in their hands. 

'• You let it be," said Salvation. 

"For whom are you making this, Salvation?" asked 

'• What would you give to know? " 

" Surely you will tell us ; or, perhaps, you intend them 
for sale. I will give a goodly sum for such a set." 

"How much?" 

" You are ever ready for a trade, Salvation. Why do 
you not give them to my worthy friend, Captain Endicott ?" 
said Mason. 

" 'Tain't my way," replied Salvation, coolly. " 'Sides, 
he nor you can't have these. I made them for some one 

' ; But who ? " 

•• That's tellin'. S'poso I was to say Ruth Harland ?" 


The captain turned upon him somewhat sharply, at the 
mention of this name. But the immovable face of Salva- 
tion, even if he had intended it for a thrust at his captain, 
as Endicott thought likely, told no tales. 

" Nice girl, Ruth," he went on, quietly. " I ain't forgot 
how she nursed me when I got that arrer in the side, in the 
swamps down by Pokanoket. Thought then I should 
make her something, and here 'tis." 

" Where did you get the model ? " 

" Saw 'em once at the Governor's, down at Hartford." 

" Is it possible you remember how to make them, after 
so long ? " asked Endicott. 

" Easy enough. I looked at 'em close, 'cause I heard 
Ruth say she had no chessmen, and wanted a set." 

Endicott looked at his young friend, and was somewhat 
astonished to see that his face was flushed. He shrewdly 
conjectured that Captain John Mason had something to do 
with Mistress Ruth Harland. 

" I bethink me now of a worthy pastor of that name, 
who left us some time since, and went to your colony to 
work for his Master. Where is he stationed % " 

" At the little colony we call by the name of Weathers- 
field. There are not many in his flock, perhaps thirty in 
all, but he is satisfied to do the work assigned him." 

"I remember Mistress Ruth now; she was a comely 
damsel. When do you return to Hartford ? " 

" At once ; having expressed my doubts of the faith of 
the Pequods, it is fitting that I should return to my duty. 
Not many months will pass before you will hear of sad deeds 
upon the border." 


" It may well be as you say, John. What think you, 
Salvation ? I have heard it said that you have shrewdness 
beyond your looks. We have made peace with the 
Pequods, and they have promised to give up to us all the 
murderers of our people. Will they keep their faith ?" 

" Course not." 

Mason looked at his friend with a smile at this confirma- 
tion of his own opinion. John Bndicott did not drop the 

" Why do you think the savages will not keep faith with 

" 'Tain't their natur'. I've followed Cap'n Mason in his 
scrimmages, and I find that the whole natur' of the animal 
called Injin is all in one word — blood. They rest some- 
times, when they git tired of blood-suckin', but it's only a 
rest. Even the Mohegans, and they are the best of the 
race, when they git in a scrimmage, go mad after scalps. 
The Pequods will keep quiet until they have made pea®e 
and smoked the pipe with Miantonomah, and then they 
will pitch in worse than ever." 

Endicott saw that the two men had no faith in the 
Pequods, and left them, looking somewhat disconcerted ; 
for he had great faith in the two men, who had fought the 
Indians in Connecticut, which, at this time, was more dis- 
turbed than any colony, from its advanced position." 

" We will go, Salvation," said Mason. " Where are our 
horses ?" 

" They are in the stables of Thomas Marshall," replied 

" Go quickly, and fetch them. I will walk on, and meet 



you at the other side of the town. "We have far to ride 

Salvation hurried away, taking tremendous strides. In 
a short time he overtook his superior, mounted upon one 
steed, while he led the other by the bridle. The horse of 
Mason was a blooded animal, one of the few which had 
been imported for the use of the colony. In the wars they 
were of no use whatever, for had the cavaliers attempted 
to use them, they would have suffered great loss. Gortez 
would never have conquered the Mexicans, had they 
possessed such a country as that in which the Pilgrims 
landed. Horsemen would have little room to swing their 
sabres. Footmen, who could plunge into the bushes, and 
meet the skulkers in their own way, were the only men who 
could be used. And under such men as the occasion called 
forth — Mason, Endicott, Church, Standish, and the like — 
they at last, though only after bloody battles, broke the 
power of every tribe. 

The subaltern was mounted upon a long-legged, ewe- 
necked beast, with a wandering, vicious-looking eye, which 
would have warned a horseman away from his heels. But 
the Yankee had lived too long, and had made the ac- 
quaintance of his animal too well, to suffer his horse to get 
the better of him in any way. There was no vice which 
flesh, and especially horse-flesh, is heir to, which was not 
possessed in the highest and worst degree by this remark- 
able beast. Any person unacquainted with the horse and 
his rider, would have wondered why the Yankee kept his 
feet thrust out in front so far, instead of permitting them 
to hang at ease by his horse's side. This precautionary 


measure was soon proved to be a good one by the vicious 
brute, which pitched suddenly forward on his knees. A 
less experienced rider would have been hurled headlong 
from the saddle. But Salvation's feet struck the ground 
as soon as the knees of Tribulation — as he had long ago 
christened his steed — and he remained calmly seated in his 
saddle, until such time as the quadruped thought proper to 
rise to his feet, shake his obstinate head, and pace slowly 
forward, only meditating what next to do. 

" Cap'n !" said Salvation. 

" Well !" said the other, looking back at his strange 

" It's a-comin' !" 

" What is coming f ' 

" Tribulation's tantrums." 

The captain laughed — for he well knew what that meant. 
When Tribulation once got started, he did not cease until 
he had run through the entire role of vicious tricks. As 
often as this was undertaken, so often Salvation conquered 
in the end. But the conquest never cowed the spirit of the 
animal in the least, and he was ready, whenever he took it 
into his vicious head, to go over with his tricks again. 
First, he " bucked," and, to describe this vice, the words of 
a distinguished writer will do : — 

" The thing is, in itself, dreadful enough without per- 
mitting ideal minds to make it worse than it is by ponder- 
ing upon the mystery of the still more fearful word. I 
hasten then to define ' bucking ' as a violent perpendicular 
leaping to the height of several feet, the animal landing 
perfectly stiff -legged, with an effect jarring to the nerves 


of the most rugged constitution, and producing in the most 
hermetically-sealed countenance what refined doctors now- 
a-days call ' nasal hemorrhagia.' " 

This was the feat which Tribulation tried, and Salvation, 
who had been through the mill too many times not to be 
prepared, rose in his stirrups, with his limbs flexed, and 
suffered himself to subside gracefully into the saddle each 
time the fore feet struck the ground. After trying this 
several times, with no visible effect upon the rider, and to 
the intense enjoyment of the captain, who drew aside from 
the scene of action to witness the struggle, Tribulation 
settled down for a moment, in order to gather his faculties, 
and then began to plunge, kick, and rear, accompanying 
the action by a series of shrill neighs. Salvation was in 
no way disconcerted by the eccentric action of the brute, 
but locked his long legs under the animal, as his long 
limbs easily allowed, and waited for something else. 

" Pretty, ain't it?" he said. 

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Tribu- 
lation fell, as if struck down by a rifle ball. It was some- 
thing new, and only the remarkable agility of Salvation 
saved him from broken bones. How he unlocked his limbs 
and got out of reach in the second of space allowed him 
before his horse's body struck the ground was a mystery to 
the captain, who stood looking on, and could not repress a 
cry of consternation as the horse fell. But the sturdy 
backwoodsman sat astride of his property, spurring him 
vigorously to make him rise. This he did, after a while, in 
a confused and uncertain manner, as if he began to have a 
dim perception that he had a master after all. But the 


beast was not ready to give up yet, and began to run 
backward at full speed, whereupon the rider pulled hard 
on the rein as if to assist in the operation. If Salvation 
had attempted to drive his animal forward, in all pro- 
bability he would have continued backing. But, when he 
felt the check of the snaffle, he attempted to roll over upon 
his rider. 

The man merely dropped to his feet, and stood over his 
fractious beast, lifting, for the first time, a heavy whip, 
which hung at his saddle. When Tribulation rose to his 
feet, this began to fall upon him with stunning force. He 
bit, kicked, and plunged as before. But the hand upon his 
snaffle was like iron, and he knew it, and stood trembling, 
with the sweat dropping from his reeking hide. 

" He's got enough of it," said Salvation, dropping the 
whip, and speaking to the horse in a soothing tone. "Soh 
— gently — old boy. Why will you force me to whip you, 
and stop us on our way ? See to your pistols, Cap'n. We 
must take to the woods, and the cover is thick enough to 
hide a red, scalpin' savage. The tribes ain't so friendly as 
they was." 

••I am armed," said Mason, touching the long musket at 
his saddle-bow, " as becomes a man who makes his home in 
the woods. Sooth to say, I am troubled in my mind. The 
men of these colonies came hither from the purest motives, 
but they begin to harp upon many doctrines, and I fear 
they will not awake from their delusion until it is too late. 
The counsels of the wise and good Roger Williams would 
have done much to quiet the savages. Yet see : because 
he dared say that the King could not give us land that did 


not belong to Lira, tLey have driven him away from the 
colonies and he is building up a refuge for the oppressed, 
and hath well named it, Providence." 

" Is Roger Williams gone ?" 

" Yes. The Narragansetts gave him shelter, and after 
that land upon which to build up a home." 

" I have heard it said that the Indians love him." 

" They do ; for he never yet promised that which he did 
not perform." 

" Hark !" cried Salvation, lifting his hand. " Hear you 

" I hear the cry of the birds, and the sound of the wind 
in the trees." 

" My ears are better. A runner comes. Make ready 
your musket." 

As he ceased speaking, an Indian appeared at a turn in 
the path, hurrying forward on the trail. 



Weathersfield, known in the early annals of the 
colony, stood upon the bank of the Connecticut, below 
Hartford. It had first been settled by a hardy company, 
who forced their way through the almost impassable wilder- 
ness of New England to this beautiful spot. The founding 
of this colony had been the first opening for the anger of 
the Pequods, who claimed the valley of the Connecticut to 
the borders of Massachusetts. Weathersfield, therefore, 
was planted in the very midst of their territory. They 


looked with jealousy and distrust upon the white men, and 
the murder of the Virginian, Stone, and his partner, was 
the result. 

The Pequods claimed, and it is not fully known with 
how good reason, that the slain man was brutal and over- 
bearing, and being intoxicated, was slain by two of their 
men in self-defence. This plea was not put forward at -the 
council, as the acute Mennawan reasoned that the English 
would not hear of any such thing, and would demand 
nothing short of the surrender of the men. Tins they 
thought best to promise, though it was far from the inten- 
tion of either Mennawan or the chief sachem, Sassacus, to 
give up the man-slayers, whom they looked upon favour- 
ably, as the first who had rebuked the invaders of their 

Mennawan, after parting with the English, made his way 
through the wilderness, which, as he had been accustomed 
to travel from boyhood, he was well acquainted with in all 
its points, and struck the Connecticut above Hartford. 

Before this, after giving to the other chiefs their instruc- 
tions, he sent one of them to the Narragansetts, and the 
other to the Wampanoags, still under the rule of the famous 
chief, Massasoit. He took a canoe upon the river, and 
paddled downward, taking care to pass Hartford in the 
night, as he feared that he might be detained to answer for 
the murder of Stone. Proceeding silently for half an hour, 
after passing Hartford, he paddled to the shore, took a 
hasty meal from some parched corn and venison in his 
wallet, wrapped his blanket about him, and laid down to 


With the early dawn he was again in motion, and 
entered Weathersfield before nine in the morning. Being 
in no fear of being detained by their weak colony, he boldly 
entered the small settlement, then consisting of a dozen 
families, who had clustered about their favourite pastor, 
Arthur Harland. 

England sent to these infant colonies some of their 
brightest and purest minds — and among these was Arthur 
Harland. Educated for the Church, he might have claimed 
any ecclesiastical honour as his own. But, with that un- 
swerving faith which was a prominent characteristic of our 
pilgrim sires, he forsook all, left behind him the graves of 
his fathers, to found a new home and new ties upon the 
inhospitable shores of New England, more friendly, after 
all, than the then named Merry England. He had brought 
with him to the new world a precious wife and daughter. 
The first had sunk under the hardships of the march from 
Boston. The other yet remained, growing more beautiful 
every day, the light of her father's household. 

Ruth sat upon the step of the rude log-cabin, which had 
been built for their pastor by his flock, when Mennawan 
entered the village. His bow of the stoutest ash was 
swung lightly over his shoulder. At the sight of the 
maiden he paused and addressed her in broken English, of 
which he had picked up a little in his intercourse with the 
whites. Ruth, who had at different times held some inter- 
course with the Indians who visited the village, greeted the 
chief kindly, and invited him to enter. 

" No wait long," said he. " Tired and hungry. Rest 
little while, den go on." 


(i Has the chief been long upon the path through the 
woods ?" asked she. 

" The road is long to the villages of the whites, by the 
Big Water. Mennawan has been to the wigwams of the 
grey heads, and had a talk. The Pequods are now friends 
with the English." 

" I am glad of that. I am very much pleased to hear 
it. Why should we quarrel with the red men V 

" The Pequods are a great nation. Before the white 
men came, the tribes trembled at the very name, and Sassa- 
cus could walk from the banks of the great river to the Big 
Water alone, and no man dared lay a hand upon his scalp. 
We are strong yet, but the dogs who have been the slaves 
of our tribe are fr'ends with the Pequods, and are saucy to 
a great chief." 

Ruth led the way into the house, and placed before the 
chief bread and meat, and waited upon him with gentle 
grace until he was satisfied. He watched furtively the 
motions of her slight figure. He did not stay after he had 
broken his fast ; but thanked his entertainer in his senten- 
tious Indian manner. He had passed out, and coming 
back as a thought seemed to strike him, he laid his dark 
finger upon her arm. 

" Let the white girl listen to the words of a great chief. 
A time may come when the bad blood may spring up be- 
tween the red-men and their white brothers. When it does, 
it may be well to have a friend with the Pequods. The 
white girl has been kind to Mennawan. He came into the 
wigwam, and she gave him bread and meat and kind words. 
An Indian never forgets." 


Ruth made a suitable acknowledgment of his kind words, 
and he took from his belt a peculiar bone, covered with 
strange hieroglyphics. 

" Take this charm," he said. " And if at any time you 
show it to a Pequod when you are in danger, and speak 
the name of Mennawan, your life will be safe." 

He took up his blanket, which he had dropped, ana went 
quickly away, while Ruth went into the study which had 
been set apart for her father. The old man sat by the lat- 
tice with an open Bible on his knees. He was a man whose 
face had that absolute power seldom given to man. No- 
thing but the consciousness of motives wholly pure could 
have given him that exalted look. His long white hair, 
parted in the centre of a lofty brow, swept down upon his 
shoulders. He raised his eyes from the sacred volume 
at her entrance, and smiled. 

l ' Who left you but now ? " he asked. 

" An Indian of the Pequod nation, dear father." 

" What did he seek ? " 

" He was tired and hungry, and asked for bread and 
meat. I gave it to him at his request." 

" And you did right. It is more blessed to give than to 
receive. No stranger, be he Indian, white man, or black, 
shall ever be turned out from the door of Arthur Harland, 
while he has a loaf. What is that you hold in your hand, 
and observe so earnestly ? " 

" It was given me by the savage who was here. He 
spoke strangely of coming peril, and told me that it would 
be a safeguard against his tribe, if I spoke his name." 

" Do vou remember it? " 


'• It is a strangely musical one, and I remember — 

" Say you so ? lie is a second chief of the nation. 
^et me see this pledge." 

She placed the bone in his hands, and he gazed at it in- 
?iitly for some moments. At last he spoke again : — 

" Write the name in your tablets, Ruth, and preserve 
He charm. I have learned something of the symbols of 
hese tribes, and I know that this is the totem of the Pe- 
[uods. Such a pledge, coupled with the name of a famous 
hief. would doubtless save your life, even if you fell into 
he hands of the savages, as, in the providence of God, 
ou may yet do. I am glad you have pleased the chief. 
Lnd what did he «ay of coming troubles ? " 

"' He spoke in a bitter way of the tribes who are friendly 
o the whites, and also said that he had made a treaty with 
>ur friends on the shores of Massachusetts Bay." 

" I remember now. The young man of war, whom they 
•all Mason, was sent by our elders to the capital, that he 
night lay before them the burdens we have borne so long 
it the hands of the savages. They did not wish to have 
>pen war, and sent messengers to the council, and, I doubt 
tot, the chief was one of them." 

•• He spoke of the length of the path to the shores of 
he Big Water." 

'• It is so, then. You must keep the charm, for it may 
je of use to us yet. Do you know if Captain Mason, the 
aliant young man who hath so often put to the sword the 
snemies of God's Israel in this colony, returned from his 
ourney ? " 


Ruth, with a confusion which the occasion did not seem 
to warrant, replied that she had been informed that the 
young captain had not returned, but must by this time be 
upon his way. 

" Sooth to say," said the venerable man, " I put not my 
faith in these wicked heathen, who compass us round about. 
Surely, it is better for the watchmen to be upon the wall, 
night and day, when the foemen compass it round about. 
I would not that the valiant young captain should be gone 
from hence. He is our strong tower and our defence. 
Cannot you speak something in favour of the worthy 
youth ? " 

Ruth uttered a disconnected speech, to the effect that 
Captain Mason had the good word of many, but, for her 
part, she had nothing to say. Her manifest confusion sur- 
prised the worthy pastor, for, like most men who are im- 
mersed in books, he had too little to do with the world 
about him, and had taken small account of the courtship 
which had been going on under his very nose, ever since 
the captain's first visit to Weathersfield. The occasion of 
his coming had been the wounding of his faithful henchman, 
Salvation Green, who received an arrow from the thicket. 
He had been taken into the residence of the pastor, as a 
matter of course, and the fair hands of Ruth had ministered 
to his wants and tended his wounds with sisterly care. 
Captain John Mason, coming often to see how his man 
fared, took a fancy to the bright face of his nurse, and an 
intimacy grew up between them. Salvation, now convales- 
cent, looked on with quiet satisfaction, for he regarded 
his leader as a model man, and his fair nurse as something 


more than mortal. He laughed in his inmost soul at the 
blindness of the old pastor, who saw nothing in the con- 
tinued visits of Captain Mason more than a feeling of 
anxiety for the safety of a good soldier. •' Why," Salva- 
tion sagely remarked, " did he think the Cap'n was sich a 
greeny as to be afraid for me, because I had an arrer-hole 
below the left elbow ? Not a bit of it. But an excuse is 
a fust-rate thing. I 'members how I used to go to see 
Faith Tribner, down at Hartford. One day I left a belt 
there, and, as true as you live, as often as I went for that 
belt, I'd forgit it, and it was nigh on to a year before I 
took it home ! That was about the time Faith married 
that little dried-up tailor down at Hartford, and said I was 
a sawney. Now, in my mind, I am the captain's belt, and 
he won't take me home until he has to." 

This sage conclusion of the woodman appears to have 
been the right one, and even after he had fully recovered, 
the captain made many errands to Weathersfield. From 
this, my readers will understand why Miss Ruth stammered 
to prettily over the name of the captain. 

But we left the pastor looking at his daughter hi as- 
tonishment, over the top of his spectacles ; for to him it 
seemed that she wished to take from the young man praise 
which he thought well merited. 

"Why, child, what evil hath he done ? " 

" None whatever, dear father." 

" But you speak as if he were not worthy of praise. The 
rulers at Hartford speak of him as a man wise beyond his 
years, and brave in his battles with the heathen. It may 
not seem meet to thee, that I. a disciple of peace, should 


speak well of one who lives by the sword. Yet. truly, we 
are commanded to be zealous, even to slaying, in the good 
cause. Surely we were not sent into the wilderness to 
suffer our wives and little ones to be put to the sword, 
while there lived valiant ones to strike in our defence ?" 

This was the faith of the Puritans. They did not believe 
in tamely bowing their heads to the scalping-knife, aad 
their stern motto, " Trust in God, but keep your powder 
dry," brought them safely through manifold dangers. 

"Do you think the savages will keep faith with us ? " 
a&ked Ruth. 

" I trust them not. Their natures are cruel, and they 
delight in scenes of blood. While it is their interest to be 
silent, they will do so. Captain Mason, who hath spokea 
often with me upon this subject, believes as I do, that we 
are in peril here. Who is at the door ? Admit him, who- 
ever it may be.'" 

Ruth went to the door, and admitted a man of com- 
manding presence, whose face was covered in such a way 
that she could only make out a clear, bright eye, shining 
through the folds of his muffler. 

" Speak to the worthy Arthur Harland, fair damsel, and 
say that a stranger seeks admission to his presence." 

" Enter," said Ruth. " Our doors are open to all." 

" Yet it might not be so, if you knew to whom you gave 
entrance, fair maiden. But deliver my message to your 

Ruth, wondering who this strange man might be, went' 
to her father with the message, and at his request con- 
ducted the stranger into his study. 


'•Bid the maiden leave us for the present, as I have 
much to say to thee alone." 

Ruth, obeying the quiet motion of her father's hand, 
turned and left the room. The stranger stood up before 
Harland, throwing off the mufflers which had, until this 
moment, shrouded his face, and revealed a, strikingly 
marked countenance — a face indicating unswerving faith 
and will — a face much like that of the man whom he now 
stood before. Such a man might be n martyr in a good 

Harland had started when the voice of the stranger fell 
upon his ears, for it awakened old memories. But, as his 
eyes fell upon the venerable lace before hint, he sprung 
forward, holding out both hands and crying: — 

•■ Roger Williams ! Thank (!od that I see thee again." 

•• Then it doth please thee, old friend, to see the exile, 
the proscribed man, who has the ban of the colony upon 
his guiltless head. Then you turn not away from the old 
college friend, though a sort of outlaw." 

•• You know me, dear Roger. Arthur Harland is not 
the man to forget an old friend. I have given my influence 
for your recall from banishment, but I fear that it will be 
in vain. It is a sad thought, that we, who fled from 
distant England to escape the persecution of a sect, should 
follow their pernicious example in our own land. But 
what can we do against many '! Weatherstield is founded 
bv men who desire that men should act according to con- 
science in all matters, but it is yet under the rule of the 
colonies, and their laws are ours." 

Roger Williams, the great Reformer, had been, by the 


persecution of his own people, driven from the colonies at 
the head of Massachusetts Bay, a proscribed man. His 
principles were too much in advance of the age in which 
he lived — a far-reaching mind, which looked into events 
as likely to happen, and could not bind itself entirely to 
the staid, sober realities of the present. 

It had been the intention of the magistrates, when they 
issued the edict of banishment against this wonderful man, 
to remove him entirely from the colonies ; and the act 
plainly stated, that if he did not leave the jurisdiction of 
the colonies, or returned again, that he was to be removed 
by force. 

But the decree did not quiet the rising storm, or daunt 
the brave heart of the Reformer. He went quietly about, 
preaching as usual to the few who would listen to his 
words ; and the court having extended the time, so that 
he could leave in the spring, greater troubles arose. His 
enemies complained to the court that he stirred up the 
people by bis treachery, and that a number of disaffected 
brethren proposed to break off from the Massachusetts 
colony, and form a settlement at the head of Narragansett 
Bay, under the leadership of Roger Williams. 

This was enough to arouse the dread of the Puritan?. 
The thought was a terrible one to them, that a. colony of 
Anabaptists should spring up so near their The 
court decided that it was best to seize this obnoxious 
person, convey him on board a ship waiting in Boston 
harbour, and send him to England. 

A summons was sent to him to attend the session of the 
general court in Boston. This was in the midst of winter ; 


his health had been impaired by his labours, and he refused 
to appeal", giving his reasons. 

This did not suit the magistrates, and a warrant was 
issued to Captain Underhill to take him. He went to 
Salem, and found the house tenanted only by the family of 
Williams. The bird had flown. Fully determined not to 
return to England, the preacher plunged into the trackless 
forest, skirting the shores of Massachusetts Bay. 

Turning his back upon the place where he had so long- 
vindicated the truth, he buried himself in the forest, with- 
out companions, in the rigour of a New England winter. 
From that time he was an exiled man, for the stern 
doctrine? of the Puritans would have prompted them to 
destroy him, if he had dared to return. 

It is a sad commentary upon the history of the times, 
that this brave old man should be driven out by his own 
people, and find a welcome home in the cabins of the 
Xarragansetts. It had been his care, while in the colony, 
to engage the friendship of the Indians, and he so far 
succeeded, that when he presented himself in the village, 
and claimed their hospitality, it was freely given. 

He spent some weeks in the cabins of Canonicus and 
Miantonornah, and then went into the country of the 
Wampanoags. Massasoit, now an old man, greeted him 
kindly. He gave him a grant of land, upon the Sekonk 
river, where he built a cabin, and began to plant. Here, a 
number of faithful friends, who had followed his movements 
with solicitude, joined their old pastor, and he hoped to be 
able to plant a colony, which should be an asylum for the 


Bat the Christian settlers of Massachusetts were not yet 
satisfied. They had driven him from their midst, but he 
had now built within the limits of their charter, and if he 
remained, he must obey their laws. He received a kindly- 
worded letter from Governor Winthrop, informing him of 
the fact, and desiring him to remove across the water. To 
this note he made answer that he would at once take 
measures for removal. 

With his five companions, he left the pleasant spot which 
had been given him, and crossed the bay, intending to find 
a place upon the other side. The Indians met him upon 
the western bank, with the salutation, " What cheer, Netop 
(friend) ; what cheer 1 " 

In the end of June, 168fi, the great founder of Rhode 
Island began the settlement, called by him Providence 
Plantation. More than two hundred years have passed ; 
the Indian tribes who inhabited the spot have not a repre- 
sentative upon earth. But the great city of Providence 
now stands, an enduring monument of the unswerving faith 
of its founder. 

Although the colonies had gladly driven Roger Wil- 
liams away, yet they had never ceased to remember 
his influence over the savages. And the time was near at 
hand, when they were to claim the aid of the wonderful old 
man, who had nothing to thank them for but the perse- 
cution which had made an asylum for the oppressed in the 
New World. But men forget their evil deeds quickly, 
and when that time came, they readily called upon him for 

We turned aside a little from the plot of the story to 

m>Tii i*i;n;s i and iatiikr. 39 

say a word of this extraordinary man — first, because he 
will bear a place in the story, and it is necessary that wo 
should have his record before us, lest it should be difficult 
to believe that he endured such hardships ; and next, be- 
cause he is a type of the men of the time, of whom we may 
justly be proud. 

He turned his smiling face towards his friend, at the 
last words of the other. 

" Thou sayst truly, old friend, and yet we must not 
speak ill of our rulers. I, who have been most oppressed 
by them, do not revile them. They were misled by false 
doctrine — by an inhuman creed. It was, after all, a happy 
thing for me, that they cast me out from their midst ; it 
hath made me a new man, and to my poor people it hath 
been a blessing which cannot be told. They are happy, 
and if they differ, they let the elders judge of right and 

li I have heard of such things in the days of Mel- 
chisedek," said Harland, with a smile ; " both priest and 

'• Priest and father," said Williams, proudly. " The five 
who came to dwell with me at Sekonk are now many, but 
they take the bread of life from my lips still." 

' ; Have you trouble with the Indians ? " 

" No. We have no cause of quarrel with them. We 
purchase our land of the owners of the soil. What hath 
his Majesty the King of England to do with that to which he 
never had any other title than that an Englishman first set 
his foot upon it ? I go to the man who is rightful owner, 
the chieftain Canonicus, and his chief men. They had do- 


termiued that the English should never settle in their 
territory. Not thousands or tens of thousands should 
make an entrance into the bay. Only the language, ac- 
quaintance, and favour which I had acquired over them 
obtained this favour for me." 

"How much of your land do you retain?" asked the 

" My wants are small, and I could do nothing with the 
large grant which was given me by the sachem. The faith- 
ful friends who shared my exile had families, so I made it 
common property. I was selfish, too, for I kept to my 
own use two fields which I had planted with my own 

" It is a long distance to Providence Plantation. How 
did you come here ? " 

" In my own boat, in company with two trusty friends, 
who wait for me at the river." 

" Why did you come V f 

" I came to warn you. My intercourse with the Indians 
gave me an opportunity to gain much information. I 
would not use it to their hurt, but when their course is 
evil I must speak. The Pequods are a bloody-minded 
race, and they thirst for the blood of the English. They 
have sworn to engage the tribes in a conspiracy to sweep 
the whites from the continent. In this conspiracy they 
design to number the Narragansetts, the Pokanokets, and 
the Nipmucks." 

" But they have made a treaty." 

"What are treaties to the Pequods? Do you think 
that I would leave my pleasant home, at my age, for an 


idle tale? Though the people of Massachusetts have used 
me ill, my heart still yearns toward them, for they were 
once of my flock. I love them so well, that I have taken 
the oar again, in my old age, to do them good. Bear these 
tidings to the Council at Hartford. Say to them that, I, 
Roger Williams, vouch for it as true, and will do my best 
to suppress it. For myself, T must return to my people." 

'• Purely not now.'" 

'• This very hour. My boat waits, and there is no time 
to waste. (Jive my kindest wishes to your child, who is a 
comely damsel, and better fitted for the safety of Boston 
or Providence than this place/' 

The old men shook hands and parted. One going with 
a sturdy stride, which age could not take from him, to his 
boat by the river-bank, and the other to lay his head upon 
the rude table before him, and dream of the days when 
they were boys in school and then students at Oxford. 
Here, in their old age they were strangely brought to- 



The Indian who met the two adventurers in the forest 
was "Wequash, one of the three who had been sent to the 
Xarragansetts. He did not see them until close upon 
them, as he was hurrying on with his eyes bent upon the 
trail. "When he did look up at, the sound of the horses' 
feet, his face exhibited no surprise or fear, and he continued 
his course until close to the captain's side. 

" The white men follow a blind path " he said, laying 


his hand upon the rein of the horse, and checking his 
progress. " Let them turn back and make it more plain." 

" I do not understand you," said Mason. " The path 
between us and the red men is now made very plain." 

"Mennawan has spread a cloud over the path. He 
would not have it seen. He has taken the belts of the 
Yengees, but he laughs at them now, and spits upon them 
in the dark woods. Listen : Mennawan has been to the 
cabins that are built by the great river, and has seen there 
a maiden fair as the flowers in the meadows. He would 
have her come into his lodge." 

" Ha !" cried the other. " What maiden f ' 

" She is the daughter of the old prophet with the grey 
hair. The one who nursed the long white man when he 
had an arrow in his flesh." 

l - Darn it," cried Salvation, " but that is too much. Does 
the greasy Indian look so high as that ?" 

" Mennawan is second chief of the Pequods," replied the 
Indian, with a proud look. " He is not to blame for look- 
ing on the white maiden. But the Yengees are now my 
friends, and I will not do them a wrong. The chief is 
making bad blood between the Narragansetts and the 
Yengees. This is not well, and a chief who has given his 
word has no right to do it. We will keep faith with 
them, if we can." 

" When did Mennawan visit Weathersfield ? " asked 
Mason, keeping down his passion as well as he could. 

' ; When the chiefs were on the path to the council at 
Shawmut " (Boston). 

" Where is he now ? " 


" He has gone to the nation. His path will take him 
near the door of the old prophet." 

Mason suppressed a gesture of rage, and began to ques- 
tion the chief closely. From the information he received, 
he thought it prudent to return to Boston, and take We- 
quash with him. Salvation was sent on to Weathersfield 
and Hartford, with instructions to tell no one but the 
council what he had heard. After getting his instructions, 
he pursued his course at an easy pace, while Mason and 
the Indian turned back upon the trail. Tribulation shook 
his obstinate head when the attempt was made to ford the 
river, and his master, knowing that it was useless to urge 
him just then, and feeling a little hungry, picketed him near 
by and built a fire. He had cooked a little meat, and was 
eating it with a keen relish, when Tribulation erected his 
ears and gave utterance to a loud snort. Salvation sprung 
to his feet and looked to Ms rifle, while his horse, dragging 
the picket from its place, ran up to him in alarm. 

The cause of this was soon manifest. For the bushes 
bent and cracked under a heavy body, and a huge black 
bear came out into the opening. The place where they 
ttood was upon the Connecticut, about three miles below 
Weathersfield, and the time, the morning of Roger 
William's visit to that place. 

The tall Yankee was brave as a lion, and feared no 
danger. Instead of mounting his horse, as he should have 
done, he waited for a shot at the bear, which came at him 
much after the manner of a cat, when approaching an 
object of which it has some doubt, in a sidelong, hesitating 


Salvation fired carelessly, and the bullet touched the 
shoulder-blade of the animal, and inflicted a flesh-wound 
in the neck, which elicited an angry growl. Rising upon 
its hind feet, the bear cast a single look at the hunter, and 
then leaped at him. This was too much for Tribulation, 
and he fled before his master could mount, leaving him at 
the merey of the mad beast. The hunter was not a man 
easily frightened, but even he did not care to meet the hug 
of a bear, knowing that it was certain death. There was 
nothing for it but a run, and he laid himself down to his 
work as he only knew how, while the bear lumbered along 
iu his rear. 

In looking at a bear, one would be inclined to think that 
a man could outrun him with the greatest ease. But such 
is not the case, as poor Salvation found before he had run 
a hundred yards along the river-bank ; for, looking. back, 
hardly twenty feet intervened between himself and the 
furious beast. 

A tree stood upon the river-bank, leaning over the 
stream. Into this he climbed, and located himself in the 
forks. The body leaned so much, that he had walked up 
with great ease, and stood prepared to defend his position. 
Of one tiling he was certain — Bruin could not hug him 

" Oh, Tribulation," he muttered. " You don't know 
What trouble you have got your master into this day." 

The bear did not climb the tree at once, but placed his 
huge paws upon the body, and stood looking at the man, 
the blood dripping from the wounded shoulder. PerMps 
it might have been the awe of man which restrained him-* 


perhaps he waited for rest. At any rate, some moments 
passed before he attempted to climb the tree. This time 
Salvation spent in loading his rifle in order to get another 
shot at the bear. He succeeded in wounding him despe- 
rately, but not in such a way as to disable. With a roar 
of anguish the beast began to climb, while the Yankee 
stood with his clubbed rifle ready, and waited for the 

At the first blow he, bruin raised his paw and the 
piece flew ont into the air, landing on the greensward, 
twenty feet from the base of the tree. He had now 
nothing but his knife, and he drew it with the determination 
to fight as long as possible. 

In order to reach the spot where lie stood, it was 
necessary to put his paw upon a projecting limb, close to 
Salvation's side. Each time he did so, Salvation gashed it 
with his knife. After this had been twice repeated, the 
bear threw himself forward with his whole power, and 
forced Salvation to fall back, but not before he had 
wounded his enemy again. 

He crept out upon a long limb overlooking the water, 
followed by the furious animal. There was no escape. 
Below him ran the river, deep and dark. Before him the 
bear, foaming with rage ; and his only weapon was the 
knife. He was not long in making up his mind what to do. 

Placing his knife in his teeth, he grasped a limb above 
his head, and shook the limb rapidly, whenever the bear 
placed his foot upon it. Bruin greeted this measure Avitb 
a growl of manifest disapprobation, tottering uneasily upon 
his nprch. 


'• Don't like it, do you, old mug-o'-hate?" cried Salvation. 
" Come out, if you dare !" 

A s if he heard the challenge, and understood it as well, 
the brute obeyed. When the hot breath was upon him, 
so close had he come, the pioneer threw himself backward, 
and disappeared in the dark water, which was full thirty 
feet below. 

When Salvation rose to the surface, Bruin was also in 
the water, for the violence with which the branch rebounded 
threw him from it, and sent him tumbling heels over head 
into the stream. For a short space the brain of the animal 
was of no use to him, so great was the shock he had re- 
ceived. But the moment he recovered, he swam swiftly 
toward Salvation, dyeing the water with his blood. 

"Stubborn brute," muttered Salvation. "Why don't 
you die ?" 

This appeared to be furthest from the thoughts of 
the animal. Seeing that he would be overtaken, the man 
dived and rose some distance below. In the meantime, the 
current had swept his opponent further down-stream, so 
that Salvation rose almost in the paws of the bear. 

During the struggle he had clung to the knife, hoping 
that it might be of use to him. As he dived again he took 
it from Ids licit, while the animal, somewhat amazed at his 
disappearance, paddled to and fro, searching for the object 
of his wrath. 

All at once the water about him was dyed with the blood 
from a new wound — for the hunter, diving beneath, had 
plunged his sharp knife into his vitals. The wound was 
mortal, and after an ineffectual struggle or two, the huge 


beast turned upon his side, and floated unresistingly down 
the stream. 

The struggle had carried the two combatants far out 
into the river, and, as his adversary gave up, Salvation 
knew, for the first time, that he had lost blood in the en- 
counter, and had not strength to gain the shore. As he 
struggled feebly in the current, a cheerful voice called 
out : — 

" Take courage, friend ! Keep up." 

Looking in the direction of the sound, he saw the boat 
of Roger Williams, propelled by two stout oarsmen, coming 
down like the wind. He struck out with new hope, and 
was taken up by the men who had come to his rescue, more 
dead than alive. 

They carried him to the shore, where Roger made use 
of the medicinal skill which he had acquired among the 
Indians in restoring him to consciousness. He was suc- 
cessful, and the strong constitution of the pioneer soon got 
the better of his weakness. 

" Thou art badly hurt," said Roger, as his queer patient 
tried to rise. 

" Not so badly, I hope, as to lack the power to belabour 
Tribulation, whom I see grazing yonder as quietly as if he 
had not been the cause of all this trouble ; darn him ! " 

Roger rebuked him mildly. 

"lama rough woodsman," said Salvation ; " but I am 
not the less grateful to the men who have saved my lifa. 
May I ask your name, sir f ' 

" Men call me Roger Williams," replied the Reformer. 

" The time may come," said Salvation, " when I can do 


something for you. I ain't going to talk about it. I 
don't s'pose talking would do any good, or make you 
believe I mean what I say any more. But if you ever 
need the help of a strong arm, sich a one as mine, for in- 
stance, call on Salvation Green." 

Roger "Williams gave him his hand with that w innin g 
grace which characterised him through all his eventful life. 

" Thou art an honest man," said he, " though thy train- 
ing has been of the woods and the hills. But I have found 
kind friends even among the savages in my time, and why 
not now, in one of mine own blood. I thank thee for thy 
promise, and if I ever feel the need of the strong arm of 
which you speak, I will call yon first of all." 

" Where are you bound?" 

" To Providence Plantation," replied Roger. 

" Shall I go with you, and help guard you?" 

" I have no fear ; the Indians love me well." 

Salvation regarded him with a look of wonder. " Then 
you are the only white man between Salem and the 
Floridas who is loved by them. I don't trust their love, 
and don't you either. They ain't to be trusted. They're 
a crawlin', sneakin', stealin', murderin' race, and I don't 
care who knows it. Kind to you they may have been, and 
they may keep quiet while you live ; but the time will come 
when their knives will be sharpened for the scalps of the 
good people of Providence, as they now are for ours." 

" How know you that?" asked Roger, quickly. 

" The hand of Providence, among other good gifts, and 
a variety of bad ones gave me eyes and ears. I heard it 
from an Indian, and I have seen their tricks, time and time 

i m: n:Ni!*n\iE\'T ok tribulation. 49 

ngain. I'm something of a scout, you must know, and I 
intend to go to the Pequod lodges and see what they are 

" Dare you trust yourself in their country, Sir Scout ? " 

" I am not easily scared. I'll go there, and so will my 
horse, Tribulation. Which reminds me that I must pay 
him off for serving me such a trick." 

" You surely will not go among the Pequods with that 
wound ? " 

" One day in the hands of Mistress Ruth Harland, who 
is the best leech in these parts, will set me right. I shall 
then go on. You are going, and I want to say a word. 
You may think that you have no friends in the colony, and 
they gave you good cause so to think. But you are wrong. 
There are hundreds of hearts which remember you kindly, 
and pray that your colony may prosper well." 

" Thou givest me heart," said Roger. "I had some 
cause to love the colonies, and to doubt their love for me» 
Thou art going into danger, my son. The prayers of an 
old man are with thee. Fare thee well." 

The voyagers then put out from shore, and pulled down 
the stream with hasty strokes. Salvation watched until he 
could see them no more, and then turned back to catch 
Tribulation. That too acute animal, plainly seeing what 
was in store for him, dodged his master for half an hour, 
aud was finally entrapped by a handful of salt, which Sal- 
vation took from a pouch at his side» Salvation mounted, 
and belaboured the stubborn beast until he plunged into 
the stream, and swam safely to the other side. Five 
minutes after, Salvation rode into the streets of the little 


town, and straight to the residence of the old pastor. 
Ruth came to the lattice at the unwonted sound of a horse's 
feet, and seeing who was there, ran clown to the little 
wicket to welcome the scout. Tribulation was assigned to 
the care of a little negro, who had followed the fortunes of 
his old master to the new world. Jupe was an odd cha- 
racter, nearly a dwarf, possessing an unbounded love for 
his young mistress. A smile from her would make him 
happy, and he performed every duty imposed upon him 
with the greatest joy. Service, to him, was another name 
for happiness. 

•• Hi, Jupe ! " said the scout, who knew the boy well. 
'• Rub liim down, give him a feed of hay, and keep away 
from his heels." 

Jupe, who had a wholesome fear of Tribulation, took 
the halter at arm's length, and called to the horse to come. 
But, at that particular moment, the animal refused to stir, 
planted his feet firmly, and regarded the efforts of the boy 
with the indifference of the ox in the fable, when a gnat 
lighted upon his horn. 

" Take lum along, Jupe," said Ruth, who knew nothing 
of the character of the horse." 

-Ain't I a-tryinV' cried Jupe. "You come along, 
you ole mule. Git up ! " 

Tribulation remained obdurate. 

"Sec yer, you! Don' you see what you're a-doin'? 
You're a-keepin' Miss Ruth a-waitin'. Come now ; w'at's 
de use ? Be good, can't yer, say ? Come along to de 
stable. Give you lots and slathers to eat ; will so — 'deed 
I will. Oh, go way. 'Tain't right, dis yer ain't ; 'tain't 


even proper. Will you come? Oh, Marse Green, you 
make him ! Why, de — Adversary — (dat's de name, ain't it, 
Miss Ruth ?) doa' you stop larfin', and come yer an' help a 
feller. Tek' car' you're own hoss, nex' time, see if you 
don't. Darn ole rusty barebones, ain't fit for a nigger to 
ride ! Hi, up, dar' ! " 

But Tribulation was stedfast in his purpose to remain 
where he was, and the entreaties of Jupe were unavailing. 

" Look out for fun," whispered the scout to Ruth, as 
the negro dropped the halter in despair. " When I speak, 
just see what old Trib does. Take hold of him ! " 

As the scout said the last words in a loud voice, the 
negro again grasped at the bridle. To his dismay, he 
found that the words were not addressed to him, but to 
the horse, which rushed at him with open mouth. This 
was too much for the equanimity of poor Jupe, who fled 
with a yell of surprise and fear, closely followed by Tribu- 
lation, who desired to take possession of the rusty old hat 
which covered Jupe's woolly head. Up the walk which 
led to the door of the cabin went the darkey, closely 
pursued by the horse, whose eyes fairly bulged with 
delight. He overtook the boy just at the door, seized the 
hat in triumph, and wheeled about, while the scared 
servant fled into the house. Tribulation, with many 
prances and shrill neighs, brought back the hat, and laid it 
at his master's feet. The scout fondled him a moment, as 
he said : — 

u I taught him that trick. When I say ' Take hold of 
him!' he knows what it means as well as any man, and it 
d- jrreat fun to see them dive at each other." 



"Hasn't he hurt poor Jupe?" asked Ruth, in some 

" Not a bit of it. The nig is pretty well scared though." 

At this moment the darkey thrust his head cautiously 
out of the door, in search for his enemy. 

" Jupe," said his mistress, " come here." 

For the first time in his life Jupe refused to obey an 
order from Ruth. But his present fear of Tribulation was 
too strong. 

'■ Come here, I say, and take care of this horse." 

'• No, I won't. 'Taint fa'r to ask it of a poor nigger. 
Dat ain't no horse, dat ain't. Dat's de debble." 

" Jupe !" 

'■ 'Tis, tell you. S'pose I don' know ! Tried to swaller 
me hull, dat he did. You go way, Mister Green. Tek 
car' you' own horse, ef you sets him on me." 

" But, Jupe, I order you to take the horse." 

"Now don't, Miss Ruth. Don' you do dat ar.' I's 
afraid, I is. Don' like to go near dat hoss, scarcely." 

Ruth looked at the scout with a smile. " It is too bad 
to plague him," said she. " Let me take the horse to the 

" Take him," said the scout, with a grin ; adding, in an 
undertone, " if you can." 

Ruth took the halter, and called the horse, but the 
animal refused to move. But Ruth approached, fondled 
and coaxed him for a few moments. When she called 
again, the horse followed like a dog. 

•' Take my hat," said Salvation. •' You are the oaty 
man, woman, or child, except myself, who could ever tSiJrt 

ruth's latest conquest. 53 

old Tribulation. And you beat me, for I do it by flog- 
ging, and you by coaxing." 

From that hour the horse evinced a strange affection for 
the beautiful girl. When she came near him, the animal 
would turn his head and follow the girl's motions, never 
seeming satisfied unless she touched and fondled him. For 
Jupe he manifested great contempt, and chased him back 
to the house whenever he made his appearance in the 
pasture, in which he was placed ; for it was more than a 
week before the scout was ready to set out upon the trail. 



Mennawax, after leaving the cabin of Harland, shaped 
his course at once for the Pequod village, which was 
situated near the Mystic river, in the present town of 
Groton. This was the largest village of the nation, and 
contained some hundred inhabitants. The head sachem, 
Sassacus, made his residence at this place, and tried cases 
which came under his jurisdiction as head of the tribe. In 
sending the deputation to Boston, Sassacus had only acted 
upon a preconceived plan for lulling asleep the fears of the 
English, for at no time had he intended to make perma- 
nent peace with them. This haughty chief had early fore- 
seen that the English were destined, ultimately, to possess 
the land, unless driven out by violence, and his present 
design was, as Roger Williams had stated, to bury the 
hatchet with all the tribes with whom he was at war, and 
engage them in a- confederacy which should sweep tha 


English from the face of the earth. It is more than 
probable that, but for the efforts of Roger Williams, this 
design would have been carried out. How far it might 
have been successful, is impossible to state. But a war 
would have been the result, greater than any which ever 
scourged New England. The cunning displayed by 
iSassaeus in perfecting his plan was worthy of a great mind. 
If it had been the deed of an ancient Roman or Grecian, 
it would have been extolled in prose and verse as the effort 
vi a great man, who loved Ins country, to sweep the 
invader from his soil. But as it was the act of a savage 
red-man. it only meets execration. Sassacus had a heart 
Idled with the pride of being head of a great nation, 
greater than any of the robber clans from which sprung the 
heroes of Greece and Rome. We can hardly blame him, 
if lie made an effort to uphold his failing power, even at 
the expense of human blood. The village was surrounded 
by a fort, built after the Indian fashion — a deep ditch, 
protected by an abattis of fallen trees, with the branches 
pointing outward. Within, strong palisades of long poles, 
driven into the ground and inclining inward, furnished pro- 
tection for the archers, who might stand upon elevated 
platforms running round the inside. There were three 
principal entrances ; upon the south, west, and east. The 
.Mystic covered the northern side. The work itself was 
proof against anything in the shape of musketry, and there 
was no danger of their enemies bringing artillery against 
them. Secure in this place, and knowing that it was 
stronger than any fortification of the kind within that 
country, the I'cqnods defied the English, 


Sassacus was seated in his wigwam, studying a plan for 
action upon the return of the deputation. While at this 
work, the lodge curtain was lifted, and an Indian entered 
and stood with bowed head, waiting until he had permission 
to give his errand. 

" Speak," said Sassacus. 

'• Mennawan has returned." 

4i Let him enter." 

The messenger retired, and the brother of Sassacus 
entered. With the freedom which only a very great chief had 
a right to use in the presence of the sachem, he advanced 
to the centre of the room, and sunk down upon a mat at 
the side of his brother. For some moments neither spoke, 
when the silence was broken by Sassacus. 

" My brother is welcome. Is he hungry or thirsty ? " 

" Mennawan has broken bread in the wigwams of the 

The brow of the chief darkened. 

" Was there no corn in a Pequod lodge, that a great- 
chief of the nation should go into the wigwams of our 
enemies? Has Mennawan done well in this? " 

" The heart of Mennawan is pure," replied the other, 
laying his hand upon his breast with a gesture of proud 
self-possession. " He knows he is right. We have made 
a treaty with the Yengees. We must put them to sleep, 
like the green snake which looks out of the bush upon a 
bird, and then we will strike. I have gone into the wig- 
wam of the old prophet by the river, and have listened to 
the words of the 'Swaying Reed.' Her voice has a plea- 
sant sound in the ears of a chief." 



" Is Mennawan a chief of the Pequods, and has he 
taken the belts of the Yengees, to be their friends ? " 

" If a Mohegan had asked the question, the answer 
would have been a knife in the heart. But Sassacus is my 
sachem, and my brother. He wounds my heart with his 

The sachem gave him his hand without another word. 
The two sat and smoked in silence. 

" I was wrong," said Sassacus. " I hate the Yengees, 
and the words came too quickly. What has Mennawan 
done at Shawmnt ? " 

'• The Yengees held a long talk, and threatened us much. 
The heart of Mennawan burned to give them back their 
threats, but he gave soft words instead. Hearken. I have 
made a peace with Miantonomah. and sent Wequash to 
him with wampum and to smoke a pipe. There is much to 
do. The talking-paper, which waits only for your mark, 
the arrow of the Pequod nation, binds us to give up the 
two men who killed the white traders. They would have 
no less, and I told them that the murderers hid in the 
woods, and that tlio Pequods could not find them. They 
would have them, that they might hang them by the neck." 

" This is well," said Sassacus. " I have spoken to the 
braves, and they are indeed in the woods, and a Pequod 
shall not find them. Good ; go on." 

" The ' Indian Killer ' stood by the chair of the white 
chief, and told him what to do." 

" A curse upon him," said Sassacus, angrily. " He is a 
dog, and his scalp shall dry in the smoke of a Pequod 
lodge. He has taken a name which will be his destruction. 


What said the son of the bad Manitou, tho evil spirit 
which dwells in darkness and blood ? Does he make it a 
boast that he has slain men whose skins are red ? A pro- 
phet of the nation has spoken, and his words are death to 
the Pequods or the Yengees. One or other must die, and 
dwell no longer in this land. What of that? If the 
Indians are doomed, they go to the 'happy hunting- 
grounds,' and chase the deer by the pleasant river. No 
Yengees can come to the place of their rest." 

The striking countenance of the chief lighted up with 
enthusiasm as he proceeded. His form straightened up 
proudly, and his eyes began to blaze, as if in imagination 
he saw before him the enemies of his nation. 

" But the Indians shall still possess the land," he said. 
" We shall call the tribes together, and the sound of the 
battle shall ring through the border. You have been in 
the lodges by the great river. The vengeance of the 
nation shall fall upon them first. Were they in fear, or 
did they sleep, until the war-cry is sounded in their ears ? 
Let Mennawan speak." 

" They dream not of danger," replied the other, quietly. 
" The old men sit in the lodges, the women rest beside 
them, and the young men plant their corn in the fields." 

" It is well." 

"Mennawan must speak. The council has said these 
must suffer. Now hear the words of a great chief. It is 
not well all these should die. Is not the nation great, and 
do they not need corn ? Let us take these men, and make 
them work in our fields, as our women do now, and let 
them sit in the wigwam and nurse our children, as the 

■'" tttJ'H HAHL.VND. 

\\ kite women do. Do we not love our women, that we 
make them do the labour of oxen ? " 

" The chief has not spoken well," again answered the 
sachem. " He has stopped too long in the wigwams at 
Shawmut. There is only one path marked out, and both 
Yengee and Pequod cannot tread it. One must give way 
to the other. If we spare these men, they are only the 
yonng of the serpent, who will bite us when we do not 
think of it. Do you take the young panther to your wig- 
wam, and feed it ? If you do so, you are safe until its 
claws are grown, and then it will seize you by the throat, 
and rend you. These Yengees are young panthers. The 
old ones may be slain, but the young ones will grow. If 
the Pequods would live and be happy, the Yengees must 

Mennawan restrained the determined look which his face 
had taken when the proposition was first made. He had 
evidently determined, for some secret purpose of his own, 
to spare the people of Weathersfield. This had been de- 
HTmined upon since his visit to that place. He rose, and 
paced angrily to and fro in the wigwam. At last he 
slopped in his hurried walk, and faced his stern brother 
with blazing eyes. 

'• Is Mennawan a child, that he may not do as he likes? 
He has gone through the woods to the wigwams at Shaw- 
mut. 1 say, the white men are mine. I ask no help from 
the men of Sassacus. I laid the plan — I did the work— I 
will carry out the plan — and I will not slay the prisoners." 

" !Said I not well," said the sachem, " that the chief had 
taken the belts of the Yengees ? The ' Swaying Reed ' 


has spoken in the breath of the East Wind, and his heart is 
soft like that of a girl's. Let him not strive to throw 
dust. The eyes of the Pequod sachem are so good that 
he can see through a very thick cloud. He knows what 
has been doue. Mennawan has been in the wigwams of the 
Yengees, and has heard the voice of the ' Swaying Heed.' 
His brother is not angry, but he is very sad that so great 
a chief has gone astray. He will not make answer to 
what he has said yet." 

" What will the sachem do '? : ' asked Mennawan, with a 

" We will go to the Yengee village, and look upon the 
'Swaying Reed.' We can then tell better whether the 
chief is right in being so tender to our enemies. Come." 

He rose, took his brother by the arm, and led him 
from the lodge. As they came out into the open space, 
the lodge-curtain opposite was lifted, and a woman came 
forth from the wigwam, holding a child in her arms. She 
had straight, regular features, and was, withal, a fair 
specimen of forest comeliness and grace. Sassacus paused 
suddenly, and laid his hand quickly upon the arm of the 
other, so as to arrest his steps while he pointed to the 
pair, who evidently did not see the lookers-on. The 
woman was bending over the boy, with all a mother's 
tenderness, while he was stroking her face with his hands. 

" Who is this?" asked the wily chief, in a low tone, still 
looking at the mother and her child. 

" This is Metamora, the wife of Mennawan." 

" Is she the daughter of a great chief ?" 

"Her father is old; but he has been verv brave/' 



replied the other, slowly, without removing his eyes from 
the forms of his wife and child. 

" Is not this the son of Mennawan which she holds in 
her arms ?" 

" Mennawan cannot lie. It is his son." 

'■ Is it a fool, that it's father fears to own it?" 

" Not so ; he will be a warrior in his tribe in his youth, 
a chief when he is a man, and when old he will sit in 

" "Who shall teach him to be a great warrior ?" 

" Metamora." 

" Has not the woman been a good wife to the chief?" 

" Why should I belie her? There is no better woman in 
the village of the Peqnods than the wife of Mennawan." 

" Why then has the heart of the chief left his bosom, 
and gone to dwell in that of the ' Swaying Reed V Let 
not Mennawan speak and say that his heart is still in the 
keeping of Metamora. Perhaps he did not know it, but 
the eyes of a sachem saw that he was not the same man 
who set out to Shawmnt, seven suns ago. See, Metamora 
comes, and brings the child." 

Conscious of the agony he was inflicting upon his 
brother by this course, the sachem persisted in it, knowing 
that it was the only way to secure the destruction of tk 
hated whites. 

The woman, looking up for a moment, for the first tint 
perceived the presence of the chiefs, and a flash of joy 
illuminated her brown face as she recognized her husband 
She approached with that shrinking deference which tin 
Indian woman is accustomed to pay to her husband «4 


bending lightly upon one knee, held up to him the laugh- 
iug boy, who held out his hands to his father. Sassacus 
darted a strange look at his brother, a look of mingled 
anger and commiseration, as he took the boy from her 
hands, and forced himself to smile upon her. 

" The chief has been long upon the trail," said the 
woman, softly. 4i Will he come into his lodge, and let a 
woman of his tribe, one who loves him well, make a soft 
pillow for his head, and drive away everything which 
would wake him ?" 

'• Mennawan is indeed tired," said her husband. " Let 
Metamora go, and make the skins soft for his rest, and 
soon he will come, and bring the boy." 

As he spoke, he raised her from the earth where she 
knelt, and with an impulse of tenderness seldom seen in an 
Indian he kissed her upon the forehead, and then dismissed 
her to her duty. Sassacus, the moment she was gone, 
laid his hand upon the brown shoulder of his brother again, 
to attract his attention. 

" Let the brother of the sachem look in his face. He 
is not angry. His heart is great toward his brother. But 
the sight of the face of Metamora, and of her child, has 
touched his heart. She has been very true to her chief. 
And now, holding her son and his against his breast, he is 
thinking of the white girl, whom we call the ' Swaying 
Reed.' Does not the face of Metamora turn you again 
o your people f 

" The heart of Mennawan is always with his people. 
Those who say he is the friend of the Yengees, lie ! - He 
is not a traitor. But he has looked upon the face of the 


' Swaying Reed,' and she is very fair. See, Menuawau has 
a large heart and a large lodge. He will not forget 
Metamora. She cau never be less to him than the mother 
of his boy. He will always love her. But there is room 
in his lodge for the ; Swaying Reed.' A great chief has 
spoken. She shall share the lodge with Metamora." 

" But the • Swaying Reed' is only one. The chiefs would 
be glad to save her life, since it is the wish of a great war- 
rior. But the women of the village would laugh, if we 
came back to them with our knives as bright as when we 
went forth. Why need we save all? " 

'• Let us talk no more of this, now. Metamora stands 
in the doorway of the cabin, and waits for me. But not a 
drop of blood must be shed in that village." 

Saying this, he turned away and entered his lodge. Sas- 
sacus looked after him for some moments, and then began 
to prepare himself for a march. In a short time he came 
forth, fully equipped, and left directions with a leading 
chief as to what must be done in the village during his 
absence. This done, he slung his long bow across his 
■shoulders and started out in the direction of the forest, to 
the west. 

After going about two miles, he turned abruptly aside 
rom the main path, and plunged deeper into the bushes. 
A few steps brought him to the edge of a deep swamp, 
such as were common in this part of Connecticut. Parting 
ihe bushes which covered the entrance to the swamp, he 
stepped upon the body of a fallen tree, and feeling his way 
with caution, entered into a circular opening in the midst 
of the swamp. 

thy: meeting at the kendezyous. 63 

The jiluce was vacant, and the chief wit down upon a 
log in the attitude of a man who expected to wait, leaned 
back against a tree, and fell into a doze. He was awakened 
in the course of an hour by a rustling in the bushes which 
covered the log upon which he had entered. Starting 
hastily to his feet, he fitted an arrow to his bow, but 
lowered it when he saw that the person who was coming 
belonged to his own party in the village, a chief of con- 
biderable importance. Greeting him with a nod of recog- 
nition, they sat down in silence, and waited still. 

A half hour passed, during which they were joined by 
three others, all chiefs, and wholly opposed to the pacific 
measures of Mennawan. They entered from different 
points in the swamp, by passages known only to them, and 
took their places in the silent group according to rank. 
1 When the sachem left the village, he had given orders to 
the head chief to have his partisans leave the village by 
different routes, while Mennawan slept, and meet him at 
this place. Under various pretexts, they had obeyed, and 
•now all were here, in number something more than a dozen. 

Sassacus looked over the body of tried warriors with a 
^rim smile. Not one among them but had sworn to stand 
'ox him in his plot against the accursed Yengees, no matter 
iiow bloody his design. Others, who favoured the plans of 
Alennawan, desired to turn the tables upon the Yengees, 
:>y making them work in their fields. The latter party 
ifcvere by far the smallest, and gained much ill-will from the 

" Are all here '( " asked Sassacus. 

'• Yes," said the next chief. " Let the sachem speak." 





It may have been that the brave scout spent a longer 
time in reaching a convalescent state after his encounter 
Tvith Bruin, than he would have done under ordinary cir- 
cumstances. His nurse was so bewitching, that he almost 
forgot his duty, though he never was foolish enough to fall 
in love. But it was pleasant for the rough hunter to have 
such a nurse, and besides, he was grateful to her for her 
kindness upon another occasion still, when he had come 
into her hands wounded by an Indian shaft. Nevertheless 
he finally mounted and turned Tribulation's obstinate head 
in the direction of the Pequod village, whittling as he rode. 

He had paused in the forest path, just at its point of 
intersection with another coming from the river, to cut 
down a pine stick, when the light tread of a moccasined 
foot startled him. Dismounting quickly, he led his horse 
down the latter, out of sight of the mam path. Trained 
to remain quiet in such peril, Tribulation stood without 
lilting a hoof at the touch of Ins master's hand, while the 
latter stole forward to reconnoitre. Four Indians were 
coming down at a quick pace, all of whom were known to 
Salvation as chiefs in the Pequod nation, friendly to Sas- 
sacus. He knew that these men could not be banded to- 
gether for any unimportant purpose. They were in their 
war-paint, a strange thing when the nation had just made 
peace with all the tribes. 

" Well, then," muttered the scout, " what are you after 
now ? Sharp is the word." 


He followed them with his eyes until they reached a 
thicket by the river, into which they went. He determined 
to follow them, and hastily tying Tribulation to a stunted 
sapling, he pressed forward in pursuit, watching every 
motion of the Indians. When about a mile from the vil- 
lage, they paused in a secluded spot in the woods, threw 
themselves indolently upon the moss, and entered into con- 

" You tell me, now, Chico, what we must do," said a 
burly fellow, who had not been present at the meeting in the 

" I tell," said Chico, who was the sachem's right-hand 
man in any enterprise. " The great chief, Mennawan, has 
looked upon a pale-face maiden, who is more lovely than 
Metamora, and his heart has gone out after her. We were 
sorry before, when he spoke of sparing many Yengees, but 
it is worse now. He has spoken with an angry tongue, 
and said that not a hair shall fall from the head of 
a Yengee in the village yonder. This is very wrong. 
We are very sorry that it is so, bat the sachem, who loves 
the chief, has determined that he shall not have his will." 

" What he do ?" asked the other. 

" He will take this maiden, and hide her away from the 
chief. When she is gone, he will forget her, and turn 
again to Metamora." 

"Ugh! good!" was the short reply. Salvation, who 
had heard indistinctly what was said thus far, determined to 
approach nearer. A large tree, in falling, had struck 
another, and now inclined at an angle of forty-five degrees, 
its top hanging directly over the heads of the group. 


Placing his nioccasined foot lightly upon the trunk, he 
ascended cautiously, and reached the shelter of the thick 
foliage. With a praiseworthy effort for his comfort, he 
found a seat upon some lithe branches, and began to whittle, 
after spreading out his homespun coat, so that no shavings 
should fall upon the ground beneath, thus affording a 
practical illustration of the " ruling passion," while he lis- 
tened to the conversation below. It was evident, soon, that 
these men had been instructed to take Ruth prisoner, and 
bear her to a secure hiding-place in the woods. It was 
the intention of Sassacus to lay the blame upon certain 
outlaws, who had been driven into the woods for various 
crimes. Salvation listened with ill-concealed anger to their 
plan, which was a good one. In the isolated position of 
the different buildings, they felt sure they could approach 
unperceived in the early evening, and take the maiden to 
the woods before help could come. They said, further, 
that they would remain in this place until dusk. 

" Would you ! " thought Salvation. '• You are the chaps 
to carry off Miss Ruth, I don't think. Perhaps you didn't 
reckon on a person vulgarly called Sal Green. All the 
same, my dears, I am coining down, and it's odd if I don't 
get to Weathersfield before you." 

He rose, put the shavings and knife in his pocket, and 
began the descent, using the same caution which had 
marked the ascent. Placing his foot upon a small branch 
upon the side of the trunk, it parted with a loud crack. 
Every Indian started up with a yell of fear, and saw the 
tall form of the famous scout coming down from the trunk, 
in a fashion which he had not intended. His first act 

" there's many a slip." 67 

would seem to be a strange one. He advanced towards 
Ohico with extended hand, saying, in English : — 

*' How do you do, brother '? " 

'• What cheer, Netop ? " said Chieo, receiving the hand. 
'• What my brother do here ? " 

Salvation now spoke in the Indian tongue. 

" The rattlesnake crawls on the ground, but he cannot 
get into the tree-top. The hunter was very tired, and he 
went into the tree to sleep. He had not slept long, when 
he was wakened by the voice of his red brothers. As he 
came down to greet them, the limb broke, and he fell." 

" Did not my brother crawl in the tree-top that he 
might listen to the words of his red friends ? " 

"Would he have given them the hand of friendship if 
this were so ? " 

Chico paused. He knew that the scout had gone into 
the tree with the express intention of hearing every word 
said by them, and that in trying to escape, he had unin- 
tentionally fallen into their hands. He determined to make 
him prisoner, but knowing the desperate courage he pos- 
sessed, he cast about for a way to seize him before he could 
do him an injury. His countenance cleared up, as if he 
were satisfied. 

" Has my white brother been in the wigwams of the 
Yengees V 

" Yes," replied Salvation. 

" Is the ' Indian-Killer ' there ?" 

" No, he is at Hartford." The scout made this answer 
because he did not wish to let the chief know that his cap- 
tain had' returned to Boston. 

i) 2 


" Where go now, brother ?" 
" To strike a deer for the white prophet." 
" It is good. The old man must have food, and he has 
no son to kill game for him. The young men of his tribe 
should keep his wigwam always full. The ' Long Arms ' 
has said well. Let him go and strike a deer for the old 
prophet. But first let him take his red brother again by 
the hand, and shake it after the manner of the Yengees." 

A malicious gleam came into the eyes of the Indian, and 
the acute backwoodsman understood his plan in a moment. 
But he gave him his hand, and was not surprised when the 
lingers of the Indian closed upon his, with the intention of 
holding him, until his friends could seize him. They un- 
derstood the plan, aud closed upon him at once. To the 
first he administered a kick, which doubled him up, and 
sent him flying off against a tree, upon which his head 
struck with great force, rendering him senseless. Against 
the next he delivered a back-handed blow, a mere touch, it 
would seem, which sent him to earth, with the blood gush- 
ing from mouth and nostrils. In the meantime, he had 
closed his iron fingers upon the palm of Chico, driving the 
bones into the flesh, such was the power of his grip. The 
Indian, who had sought to do the same for him, found him- 
self checkmated by his own move. So great was his agony, 
that he did not think of drawing his weapons, but only of 
releasing his hand from the vice in which it was placed. 
Seeing the fourth savage draw back, Salvation dashed-his 
left hand full in the face of their leader, and then released 
him, knowing that his right hand would be of little use to 
him for many a day. The maimed member dropped 


powerless by his side, and he himself fell to the earth, 
while Salvation made a rush at the remaining savage, who 
eluded the blows which he launched at him with both fists, 
wounded him with his hatchet, and closed with the knife. 
Salvation, who did not care to grapple, fearing the re- 
covery of the fellows who cumbered the moss at his feet, 
dodged the blow, and struck out again at the Indian 
with his right hand. But the man to whom he was now 
opposed was noted for his great agility in the tribe, and 
dropping on one knee, the blow passed over him, at the 
same time he launched a stroke from his keen blade, full at 
the breast of the scout. With no time to parry, he threw 
himself backward, kicking the knife out of his opponent's 
hand as he fell. With a determination which showed him 
worthy of the trust imposed in him by his sachem, the chief 
threw himself upon the fallen man, and tried to pinion him 
to the earth. Salvation was ready, and grasped him by 
the throat with his left hand, as he drew his knife with his 

The Indian saw his danger, and with remarkable agility 
wrested himself free from the grasp of his powerful enemy, 
and endeavoured to pick up liis knife. Before he could do 
this, he was prostrated by the powerful arm of the hunter. 
The moment this was done, he looked for his musket. It 
stood against the body of the tree, where he had set it 
upon his first fall, while the conversation with Chico was 
going on. Grasping his trusty weapon, he looked about 
liim hastily. 

The savage whom he had kicked sat against a tree, with 
his hands pressed hard upon the abdominal region. The 


second was rising, at the same time drawing a hatchet from 
his belt. Chico was applying friction to his right hand, hop- 
ing to get the use of it sufficiently to get an arrow into the 
body of the " Long Arms." Without staying to dwell too 
long upon these things, he turned his back upon the scene 
of his late combat, and ran down the forest-path, in the 
direction of the spot where he had left his horse. 

His flight acted with surprising effect upon the savages. 
Chico, taking a knife in his left hand, instantly bounded 
forward on the trail, opening like a hound upon the scent. 
The one sitting against the tree followed, drawing a bow 
upon the hunter as he ran. The shaft was well aimed, and 
whistled through the buckskin flap of his hunting-shirt just 
grazing the thigh. 

Salvation had no fear of being overtaken. He was 
known far and near as a powerful runner, and the Indians 
hardly expected to overtake him. Nevertheless, they 
followed him, hoping that something would happen which 
would throw him into their hands. Tie plunged into the 
path in which lie had left Tribulation, and emerged again 
mounted upon that famous beast, whirling his rifle about 
his head as he bounded forward at full speed. As he 
looked back a moment at his pursuers, an accident, which 
sometimes throws the game into the hands of our enemies, 
when we think it is all our own, put him into their hands, 
at the very moment when they gave him up entirely. 

A huge tree, growing close to the path, sent a strong 
shoot across it, about the height of a horseman's breast. 
Tribulation bowed his head, and went under it easily 
enough. If Salvation had been looking ahead, he might 


have done the same. But he was not, and the strong 
branch swept him from the saddle, and flung him, bruised 
sadly, to the earth. His rifle and knife flew out of his 
hands, and were secured by the Indians. When he re- 
covered from the shock he lay under the hoofs of Tribula- 
tion, who was striking viciously at every Indian who dared 
approach. He had already peeled off a portion of the 
scalp of one who had attempted to drag him away, by a 
touch of her forefoot. 

" Go in, old Trib," said he, looking out from his unas- 
sailable position. " You are doing well." 

In answer, the horse made a savage bite at Chico and 
took off his head-dress, tearing out with it a large portion 
of his scalplock. The irate savage retreated, and beckoned 
to his comrades, one of whom fitted an arrow to the string 
or his bow. 

" Look you here, ' Long Arms.' You not come out an' 
give up, I shoot dat hoss." 

'• No," said Salvation. " Don't shoot old Trib. Fight 
it out with me. He ain't to blame." 

,; Won't do it. No can fight," cried Chico, angrily. 
" How can fight when no got hand. Mashed so feels like 
no hand dere." 

" Want to shake hands again !" asked the scout. 

'• You talk any more, me kill. Now, s'pose you come 
out, good. S'pose you not come out, shoot dat hoss." 

" Oh, I'll come out," said he, suiting the action to the 
word. " I am coming out. And I want to know why 
you are taking me prisoner 1" 

" What you do in tree, when Indian sit down to talk, 


eh? S'pose we let you go now, you tell ' Swaying Reed' 
dat we goin' to take her 'way. How we like dat ? You 
creep — creep — climb tree— hear what Indian say — try to 
crawl down — fall — kill Indian — ugh !" 

" You commenced first!" 

"How I commence — what I do?" 

" You tried to hold me." 

li Den you squeeze. Ugh," said the Indian, with a 
grimace of pain. " Well, no talk any more now. Come 
to Pequod camp, and Sassacus say what you do. Dat 
your hoss ?" 

" Yes." 

'• He mine now." 

" I s'pose so." 

" Me ride 'im. You walk now." 

.Salvation grinned, even while the savages were binding 
Lis arms with green whhes. He could well imagine what 
sort of a figure a bad horseman (as the eastern Indians are 
proverbially) would cut upon the back of Tribulation. 
But Chico had said he would ride him, and, with the 
stubborn faith in his own powers for which the Indian is 
famous, approached the horse, which greeted his approach 
by laying back his ears and fidgeting nervously upon the 
ground. As Chico came near, he struck at him viciously 
with both forefeet, and commenced an animated contra- 
dance, keeping his front continually toward the chief. 

•• Why he do dat. eh >.'' said the chief, pausing in per- 

•' Oh, git on him," said the scout. " Whoa, Trib. 
Steady, old boy! Keep so." 


Hearing the voice of his master, the horse stopped and 
turned his head toward him as if to ask what he meant by 
such conduct. Chico took advantage of the moment to 
mount, awkwardly, to be sure, but still getting into the 

" Xow then !" said Salvation. " Go it." 

Among the many tricks which he had taught Tribulation 
when a colt, and which had afterward given him an infinity 
of trouble, was the habit of going through several vicious 
actions directed against the peace of mind and safety of 
body of the person upon his back, upon hearing certain 
words spoken by his master. No sooner did he hear the 
words from his master's mouth than he " bucked " at once, 
fearfully jarring the nerves of his rider, who nevertheless 
clung to him with desperate earnestness. 

But " bucking " is tiresome to the horse as well as rider, 
and when he had shaken up the chief to an extent which 
he had never deemed possible, Trib suddenly went down 
upon his haunches. Out of the saddle rolled Chico, and 
did not stop rolling, until he brought up against a tree 
upon the other side of the path. Leaping up, he mounted 
again, to which the horse made no sort of objection, and 
turned his head down the path, designing to return to the 
spot where the combat took place, to see after their 
wounded companion, and prepare for the capture of Ruth. 

But Tribulation had no intention whatever of going yet. 
He planted his feet upon the earth and refused to go. 
Chico got out his knife and pricked him. It needed only 
this to arouse all the devil in his horse nature, and all his 
hoof t : were off the ground at the same moment. Ho lashsd 


out vigorously with his hind feet, and varied this amuse- 
ment by pawing the air with his fore feet, and manifested 
an insane desire to climb one of the trees near at hand. 
Chico pulled hard upon his right hand rein and brought 
him to his feet. Then he went into the air again and 
ended by castiug poor Chico over his head, amid the 
laughter of his companions — for an Indian can see a joke 
of this kind, if no other. 

Chico gave up in despair, and another tried it, with no 
better success. After all had failed, Salvation told them 
that the horse would allow no one to ride him but himself. 
But in their rage, they desired to immolate the unhappy 
beast. It was only at the earnest entreaty of Salvation 
that he was spared, and was led along by his master. 

At the place where the fight took place they found their 
comrade, who was dressing his wound himself. Chico 
aided him, and then, as it was getting dusk, he left Salva- 
tion in the care of the wounded man, after taking the 
precaution to put upon him half a dozen ingenious hitches, 
and set out toward the village, telling the guard to 
tomahawk him upon the spot if he made any trouble. 



On the afternoon of the day in which the branch played 
Salvation such a trick, John Mason arrived at Weathers- 
field. He had taken the chief Wequash to Boston, where 
his story was listened to with attention, and it was deter- 
mined to send men out into the different tribes to see how 


far the conspiracy was intended to reach. Salvation had 
undertaken the mission to the Pequods, and was in a fair 
way to reach the village, though not in the manner he had 

John Mason made at once for the cabin of the pastor. 
He knew the way well. The gossips of Weathersfield, and 
there were gossips in these good old days, opined that 
worshipful Captain Mason found the company of Mistress 
Ruth Harland pleasant, and good naturedly hoped that it 
might come to good ; for every one in Weathersfield 
wished Ruth well, and believed strongly in the profession 
of Captain Mason, though not given to strife with carnal 

There were love passages between them at the meeting, 
with which we will not weary the apathetic reader. The 
captain then inquired for Salvation. 

"He has been gone since early morning," said Ruth. 

'• Did he speak of his mission?" 

'• He said that it led him into the village of Sassacus." 

" I would he had not gone. I have learned so much of 
their designs since we last met that I have great fear for 
his safety." 

" You make much of him." 

" He has twice saved my life. Rude in form and rough 
in speech though he is, Salvation Green has the heart of 
a hero. The Indians fear him — our elders respect him. I 
would sooner trust him than half the soldiers in our co- 
lonies with an important military trust. His acute brain, 
like a sponge, absorbs all it touches. He thinks much, is a 
jj'reat observer, and knows the woods like a printed book — 


better, in good sooth ; for his talent does not run far in 
the way of letters." 

" Salvation and I are sworn friends," said Ruth, with a 
light laugh. " Besides, I have conquered his stubborn 
horse, Tribulation. How did his beast ever get such a 
name '? " 

" You would not inquire, if you knew the brute as I do. 
Salvation looks for his tantrums, as he calls them, as often 
us he mounts, and is more surprised if he fails to go 
through his performances than if he does. One tiling I 
will say of the beast. When his master is in a dangerous 
place, he knows it. and then all signs fail, and he becomes 
the most trusty beast I ever saw. You say you conquered 
him. How was that ? " 

She recounted the affair of poor Jupe with the horse, 
and how she had coaxed him into submission. Mason 
laughed heartily as he thought of the comical figure poor 
Jupe must have cut flying up the path. 

" How is it that Salvation did not go out sooner on his 
mi-sion ? " 

'• His wounds detained him." 

" His wounds ? ! ' 

*• I forgot to tell you. He had an encounter with a bear, 
which forced him into the river, where he killed it. He was 
badly cut in the fight, and would have been drowned, but 
for the coming of Roger Williams." 

" You speak in riddles. There is but one Roger 
Williams, and he should be out yonder in his new colony, 
instructing them in the principles, true ones too, for which 
he was exiled. Ruth Harland, I love that man. The co- 


lony have sent him into exile, but after years shall see him 
looked up to as a model among men, as the champion of a 
right cause in the midst of a bigoted people. But he 
surely was not here." 

" He was. He spent an hour or more in close com- 
panionship with my father, who was his dearest friend long 
ago in college." 

" I would have given much to see him. Tint how did 
he save Salvation ? '' 

Ruth related the incident as she had heard it from the 
lips of the scout. Of course, it was modestly told with 
regard to himself, for he never bragged to his friends — that 
was reserved for his enemies, to whom he sometimes gave 
an overdose. 

" So, so," said Mason, when she had concluded the story. 
'• The great Reformer has not left his heart behind him. It 
was like Roger Williams to leave the comfort and safety he 
enjoyed, and embark upon a perilous voyage for the good 
of a people who had given him nothing but hard words. 
It will be like him, when he is asked to use his influence to 
keep the knives of the Narragansetts from their throats. 
They need him now." 

" What do you mean '( " 

" Roger Williams is to be called upon to go to Narra- 
gansett, and use his great power over Miantonomah to 
prevent the league with the Pequods. I seek Salvation to 
send him upon this mission. If he does not return in three 
days, I must either go myself or find another messenger, for 
the case is urgent." 

•• The journey through the wilderness is of great peril, 



dear John," said Ruth, in a faltering voice. L1 1 wish you 
would not go." 

4i Xot more perilous than the one I have just finished in 
perfect safety, dearest Ruth. Remember that the life of a 
soldier is one of constant peril. ' I magnify mine office.' 
It is a guard for the weak, at least in this land. They who 
have chosen to make it their labour should never look back." 

•' And I would not have you do so, John," replied the 
girl, proudly — placing a hand upon either shoulder and look- 
ing up into his face. •' The duty is before you, and though 
my woman's heart may be weak for a moment in thinking 
of the danger to one I love so well, yet it is over soon. Be 
faithful in your duty, and may God prosper you in it." 

'■ That's my own brave girl," cried the soldier, touching the 
lips so near his own. " But it may be that I shall not go. 
Good faith, I have enough to do in other ways. What with 
the absence of my trusty retainer, Green, and the loss of 
my second man, Fight-the-good-Pight Wilson, near the 
Mystic, I am burdened like a pack-horse in these times." 

" You look worn. What work have you on hand now?"' 

'• I have promised Captain Endicott, of Salem, that I 
will send him fifteen men for his expedition to Block 
Island. I must raise these men very quickly, within the 
three days I have allowed myself before I start for Provi- 

" What is amiss at Block Island? " 

" A trader, one Captain Jones, going to the island for 
skins, was set upon by the natives and killed. Our people 
demanded the murderers, and the chiefs refuse to give them 
up. Captain Endicott lias undertaken to punish them, and 

mason's prediction. 79 

he must have men. The times are black ones for the 
colonies. The Indians have been wronged in many cases, 
and bloody wars, rising from a series of such wrongs, must 
be the result. I can prophesy the end, but much blood 
must be shed before that end is attained." 

" How will it end ? " 

" These tribes, which muster now in our own colony 
four thousand bowmen, will be exterminated. Remember 
the wars of Cortez in Mexico. True, our men are not 
altogether clothed in steel, but our weapons are better, and 
the loss of the Indians must be very great, compared to 
ours. Their love of ardent spirits will be another enemy. 
The white race must conquer. 

'• One of the chiefs stopped at the cabin some clays since, 
and I gave him something to eat. He had been at the 
council at Boston — Shawmut, he called it." 

" Did he give liis name ? " 

" Mennawan." 

'• Ah ! was he alone ?" 

i; Yes." 

" Then Wequash told us the truth. The other chief has 
gone to the Xarragansetts, to say that a deputation of 
great chiefs will soon be on the way. What induced the 
chief to stop here ? Can it mean trouble for Weathersfield ? " 

" Why should it ? " 

" Because they do not throw away a step in these busy 
times. If he stopped here, there was a meaning in it. Has 
he been here before ? " 

•• Once." 

(< When was that ? " 


•• When he started on the journey to Boston. He asked 
for drink, and I gave it to him." 

Mason stood in thought for some moments, leaning 
against a door-post, and tapping the hilt of his sword ner- 
vously all the while, and humming a tune in an abstracted 
manner. He was evidently ill at ease, and the girl saw it. 

•' What do you think ? " 

•■ I don't know well what to think. I am afraid it will 
curl badly for Weathersfield. The bending of a twig and 
the turning' of every straw is of account in these perilous 
times. This visit of the chief's may and may not be of 
meaning. It is more than likely he came with a purpose. 
What that purpose may be I will not undertake to say. 
Where is your father? "' 

•• He went out an hour since to visit Holdfast Carter." 

'• How is his health?" 

'• It could not be better." 

'• 1 had hoped to see him, but I must make all haste to 
Hartford, to gather men. If Salvation returns to Weathers- 
field before I do, say to him that he must await my return 
in this place 

•• When diM'< Kndicott go upon his mission to Block 
Island '." 

'• I cannot tell. There is a certain rule to go through 
before they can do anything in Massachusets Bay Colony. 
Even in the old world they are not so dilatory. When 
they get ready, they have a valiant leader in Captain Endi- 
cott. But I am wasting time in pleasure. I must go." 

" Can you not wait for my father '!" 

" I think best to hasten my affairs as much as possible." 


" How shall you proceed ? " 

" To try these Pequods, I shall send a small boat into 
their country for the purpose of trade. If they use hostile 
measures against them, we shall have a better pretext than 
at present." 

" Shall you ride up ? " 

" No ; I shall trouble your people with the care of my 
horse until my return, and shall borrow a canoe to go to 

Bidding her a tender farewell, he left the house, and 
went down to the river-side. She stood in the doorway 
and watched hhn as he conversed with a settler who stood 
by the water, hi regard to a boat. The affair was soon 
settled, and he took a bark-canoe and pushed out, hand- 
ling his paddle with the ease and grace of a practised back- 

As her father did not return, Ruth strolled out of the 
house to the river, and, after exchanging salutations with 
the man from whom her lover had borrowed the canoe, 
pursued her way along the bank in the direction he had 
taken. The man called after her to be careful and not 
stray too far in these troublous times, to whom she made 
answer that she would be in no peril, and went thought- 
lessly on her way in the mellow afternoon sunlight, until 
she had put quite a distance between herself and the 

Sitting down at last to watch the sunset, with all her 
heart going out after her absent lover, she did not note fully 
the flight of time, until the sun had sunk out of sight 
behiad the trees bevond the eastern shore. She had 


gathered the wild flowers which grew profusely at her feet, 
and carelessly twined them into a chaplet with deft fingers, 
singing all the time, in a low tone, the strange old melodies 
in which the members of the Puritan Church delighted, 
whose harsh lines on her lips sounded inexpressibly sweet. 

The shadows deepened about her, and at last she rose in 
some alarm, as she saw how far they stretched across the 
water from the tall old pines. Turning, with her crown of 
flowers upon her head, she would have returned to the 
house, but she found her way impeded by a tall savage, mo 
other than Chico, who had come up unobserved, and stood 
by her side. 

Repressing an exclamation of terror, the girl looked hk 
boldlv in the face, and asked him in English what he wanted. 

•• Walk woods, ' Swaying Reed,'" was his reply. 

She was well enough acquainted with the Indian tongue 
to know that she was a prisoner. But she ventured to 
reason with the savage. Mason had taught her many 
short questions and answers of their dialect and she made 
use of them now. 

•• What have I done .'" 

"No use talk," said Chico, sententiously. "Walk 
wot ids !" 

'■ Are not the Yengees the friends of the Pequods?" 

"Always (Yen's,'' replied Chico. "Course dey fren's. 

Seeing that lie was firm, Ruth, putting out all her 
; tmigtb, pushed him over a log near which he stood, and 
ran along the river-bank, with a scream which aroused the 
ire of the Indian, who feared that some stroller like himself 



might hear her. She was not fated to run far, before she 
plunged into the arms of one of the companions of Chico, 
who had placed himself in her path. In an instant his 
hand was over her mouth and his tomahawk raised in a 
threatening , manner, which at once silenced her screams. 

" Yengee girl make noise, me kill and scalp," said Chico, 
as he came forward. 

She saw the virtue of silence, and said not a word as a 
savage placed himself on either side of her and led her 
away into the woods, while a third followed, carefully ob- 
literating the trail they made. She was astonished to find 
that the tread of her captors was almost noiseless, but see- 
ing that they used this care to cover the trail, she planted 
her feet as heavily as possible each time they touched the 
ground, though in such a way that the savages did not 
notice it at first. The savage who was covering the trail 
drew their attention to the fact that their captor stepped 
more heavily than seemed at all proper or necessary. But 
she refused to understand them when called upon to amend 
her course, and in despair they were forced to carry her. 

They had been more successful than had been anti- 
cipated. After sneaking about the village during the fore- 
noon, and the greater part of the afternoon, they had seen 
her leave the village for her walk. They had nothing to 
do but to follow and seize her upon the first fitting oppor- 

They hurried away by narrow forest-paths to the place 
where they had left their wounded friend and prisoner. 
They found Salvation safe, for even his ingenuity could not 
break out of the hitch in which they had placed him. A 



discussion now arose what to do with Tribulation, whom 
the scout had tied to a sapling for safe keeping before he 
was bound in like manner. Those who had suffered by his 
fractious behaviour hesitated between a desire to avenge 
themselves for their injuries, and a wish to save him for 
future use. In this discussion Salvation joined loudly, beg- 
ging for the life of his favourite, and at last suggesting 
that Ruth should ride him. 

*' Ugh ! " said Chico. " Chief can't ride him. S'pose 
squaw do better ? " 

" Ef an English girl were such a slouch at riding as 
you fellows, we wouldn't own her. Ruth, are you afraid 
to ride the horse ! '' 

" Xo." 

'■ Can't ride him, tell you," cried Chico. " Fall off." 

•• You let her try it, that's all," replied the irrepressible 
scout, who appeared to look upon captivity as a capital 
joke, and was in high good humour. The chief complied, 
taking care to fit an arrow to the string ready to shoot the 
horse, if she tried to escape. 

Ruth went close to the animal, patted her neck and 
mounted without trouble, to the intense surprise of the 
Mivages, who looked to see her dashed to the ground. A 
murmur of admiration ran through their ranks at her 
skill. Chico now sent one of his comrades in front, cau- 
tioning him to be always ready with his weapon. Next 
came Ruth, and behind her the scout. A warrior marched 
on each side, and Chico, like a skilful general, brought up 
the rear, overlooking the cavalcade. In this order they 
broke out of the woods into the open bottom lands to the 


west of the Connecticut, the glory and delight of the Pe- 
quod nation. Here the party turned aside from the village, 
and breaking through the swamp, reached the open space 
where Sassacus had held the meeting with his partisans. 
The chief was there before them, and rose to his feet as 
they came into the swamp, greeting them in calm courtesy. 

" The ' Swaying Reed ' is very welcome to the land of 
the Pequods. They have waited her coming a long time, 
and are glad to see her face. She is very welcome." 

" Why have I been torn from my home ? " demanded the 
girl, sharply, unawed by the presence of so many savage 
enemies. " I ask you again, as I have asked this man, are 
not the English and the Pequods friends ? " 

" Yengees are very good friends to the Pequods," re- 
plied the chief, with bitter emphasis. " So good are they 
that they love everything belonging to the tribe ; and they 
love our hunting-grounds most of all." 

Ruth could not reply to the sarcasm of the chief, for 
the cupidity of the English was beyond question. 

'• "We have prepared a place for the ' Swaying Reed,' " 
the chief said, after pausing to note the effect of his words. 
He pointed to the centre of the island. A cabin had been 
built of boughs, and was warm enough for the season. 

" You will stay here," said the sachem, " until yon are 
wanted. It may be soon — or it may be a long time. A 
guard will be with you at all times, to give you meat and 
keep away harm. An Indian girl is in the lodge, who 
will be your servant. You are very welcome." 

He took her by the hand and led her to the lodge, 
giving her up to the care of a young girl, who listened 


patiently to his commands, which he delivered in his own 
tongue. Ruth followed her into the hut, while Sassacus 
returned to meet Salvation, who had listened to the con- 
versation without a word. 



Salvation stood leaning against a tree, by the side of 
the horse, which commenced cropping the short green grass 
of the island. The attitude of the hunter was one of the 
most reckless indifference to the casual observer, though in 
truth he was watching every motion of his captors and 
longing for an opportunity for escape. Sassacus regarded 
the capture of this man as a worthy event, as he was the 
friend and companion of John Mason, known by the name 
of the " Indian Killer." 

" My brother has the longest pair of legs in the Pequod 
rountry," was the first salutation of the chief. " He has 
l)f'on using them again, and they have played him false. 
What does the ' Long Arms ' in the midst of a Pequod 
camp? " 

-■ Ask those that brought me, sachem," was the sturdy 
reply. '• You may take the word of a man who is all 
white, that I wouldn't be here if I could help it. Your 
own rascals brought me." 

" How is this ? " cried the sachem, in seeming surprise. 
" Does my brother say that he does not come here as a 
friend 1 Why are his arms bound ? " 

" That uneasy vagabond, Chico, whose hand will not be 


of much use to him for a week, tied me as you see. I 
can't eveu whittle." 

•' What had my brother done to them V 

" Xot a thing," he asserted. " Not a darned thing." 

•• This cannot be. The Pequods do not make war upon 
then- friends. Let the chief speak, and say why this great 
brave is here. He would blind the eyes of the great 
sachem of the Pequods." 

Chico stepped forward, and held up his maimed hand. 

••lama chief," he cried, angrily. " I gave my hand to 
the 'Long Arms' in the forest. He had crept like a 
squirrel into the tree-top, to listen to the words of Chico 
and his friends. A limb broke and he fell to the ground. 
But Chico gave him his right hand. A bad spirit is in 
the • Long Arms,' and he crushed the hand of the chief. 
See, it is weak, and I cannot close the fingers. Was 
this the act of a friend 1 I called to my Meads, asd they 
';ook their weapons in their hands to take the ' Long 
Arms.' He ran away, but a limb caught him by the head 
and threw him to the ground, and we took him and brought 
him here." 

" That's all right, chief, except in one or two points. In 
the first place, you set your dogs on me before I raised a 
linger. Then I squeezed your hand and knocked you 
down. 'Twas a good blow, Chico; even you ought to 
aUow that." 

- Chico will drink the heart's blood of a dog of the 
Yengees," said the chief. 

•' You left out the fact that I laid every one of you out 
before I ran. old fellow. I did f-o, You went down under 


my arras and feet like grass before the mower. One o 
you has an ache in the place where he puts his breakfast 
Another lacks a few of his teeth and is branded on th< 
head by the forefoot of Tribulation. A sickly crowd, al 
through, I calculate." 

The band glared at him, panting for breath. How to 
it that he dared defy them, when he was entirely in theii 
power? Sassacus alone remained unmoved. 

■• It is enough," lie said. '• The council of the natioi 
must decide whether you have done well or ill. Let th< 
' Long Arm? ' be taken to our village." 

•' Rather stay here," said he. 

The chief looked at him angrily. 

•• Sassacus does not eat his words. Let the Yengee gc 
to our village. Keep him well, and do not talk to Menna- 
wan about the ' Swaying Reed."' 

•• "Why not T thought Salvation, who never lost sight ol 
anything likely to be of use to him. 

'• Let the horse remain here. The Yengee maiden raaj 
wish to go away, and he would be useful. Keep the white 
man safe. If you fail, look to it, for you call down the 
vengeance of a sachem of the nation, whose name is 

" Let me speak to the white girl," said the scout. 

" No," replied Sassacus. 

" Miss Ruth," cried he, in a raised voice. She appeared 
at the doorway of the cabin. " Keep up a good heart, and 
this will end well yet." 

" Shut mouth," shouted Sassacus, in a rage, " else me 
kill vou." 


Salvation had said all he wanted, and at once took his' 
way out of the swamp, followed by the chief. Once out- 
side, the latter left the party, not wishing to be known as 
having met them, and returned to the village by a different 
route. Soon after, the chiefs came in with the captives, 
and were greeted with exclamations of joy by a crowd of 
women and boys who hurried out to meet them, while the 
warriors remained at the stations they had occupied before, 
simply turning their heads to look at the captive. His 
name became known, and ran like wildfire through the 
village. " Long Arms " was known to the tribes along 
the border as the most daring scout and spy who had ever 
entered their country. A crowd began to gather to hear 
the tale of his capture, but were sturdily ordered to stand 
aside by the unfortunate Cliieo, who was in anything but 
good humour. 

A lodge was hastily prepared for his reception, and a 
guard placed about it. In passing to his prison he looked 
up, and met the eyes of the chief Mennawan fixed upon 
him, with an expression which he could not analyse. It 
contained no triumph at his capture, whatever. But the 
curtain of the lodge was dropped, and he was left to medi- 
tate upon the mutability of human affairs. 

'■ Consarn it," he muttered. " I'm in for it now, I'm 
afraid. What luck — first, that darned old limb had to 
break, when I was coming down from the tree. Wal, I 
licked 'em all, and was going off on old Trib's back, as 
fast as she could run, when another pesky limb had to put 
its oar in. Darned ef I don't think, ef I was to try to 
hang myself on a limb, that it would break and let me 


fall. What is the matter with Mennawan? He didn't 
look as though he was glad to see nie. Shouldn't be 
surprised ef I had a visit from that feller yet. 

Two days passed, and he saw no one but his guards. 
The brave fellow kept up his courage well, but he longed 
tor the free breath of the woods in which he had lived so 
lona. Years of wild adventure, of roamings through the 
almost impassable wilderness of the eastern country, fight- 
ing with bear, panther, or Indian, as the case might be, had 
made him love the woods. 

Then he thought of Ruth, whom he loved for her own 
kindness to him, and because she was to be the wife of his 
leader. He had no doubt of his ability to rescue her, if he 
could gain his own liberty. But his guards gave him no 
chance. They all feared the anger of Sassacns, and kept 
their eves open, to the intense rage of Salvation. 

•■ Darn em. They won't even let a man whistle. Ef 
they would only give me my knife now, and some sticks. I 
feel just inad enough,*' he thought, on the morning of the 
third day, " to make a break for it, and risk life and limb 
for liberty. 1 might make it go, I reckon. Though every- 
thing i< in favour or my getting an arrow through the 
body before I had run twenty rods. Now who is coming?" 

The last exclamation was caused by a bustle near the 
doorway. The next moment the lodge curtain was lifted, 
and Mennawan came into the place. He looked haggard 
and anxious, and his clothes were dusty with travel. He 
ordered the guard to keep away from the door, while he 
talked with the Yengee, which he obeyed. 

" I have come to see my white brother," said the chief. 


" It is time some one came to see me," said the other. 
'• When do you mean to let me out of this ? " 

" This is not my work," said he, angrily. " Chico, who 
is a son of the bad Manitou, and the tool of Sassacus, has 
broken the bond I made with the Yengees. Let him not 
come within reach of my tomahawk, or I will slay him with 
my hand." 

There was a pause of some moments. The Indian 
had something to say, and did not know how to begin. 
He sat looking at the face of the hunter, which expressed 
nothing but careless indifference. At length, he resumed: — 

" I have been to the white village by the river." 

" Yes ! " 

" The hearts of the Yengees are very sad. A sorrow 
has come upon the heart of the old white prophet. Would 
my white brother like to know what this trouble is ? " 

•' Of course." 

'• His daughter, whom the Indians call the ' Swaying 
Reed,' because her form is as graceful in motion as the 
reeds by the river-bank, has been stolen." 

•' Just so." 

" The heart of Mennawan is sad for the white prophet. 
He would do anything to help find the girl." 

" WaL what are you goin' to do ? " 

" The white men are searching far and near upon the 
river. But, Mennawan is very wise. He found the place 
where she sat down to rest, and many tracks of moccasins 
upon the ground. He followed the trail. It led him to a 
place in the woods, where men had fought together. One 
wa« a white man, and four were Pequods," 



41 How did you know that? " 

" Menna wan knows the fashion of a Peqnod moccasin." 

'• But, I wear moccasins as well." 

" Do you walk as we do ? Come, we have no time to 
waste. The white man ran away and got to his horse. I 
read this in the tracks. The fight came before the maiden 
reached the spot, and the same Indians who took the 
maiden took the man." 

'• Well reasoned ; go ou." 

'• On the spot where they fought, I found this," he went 
ou, producing a button. " I place it beside the button 
upon the coat of my brother. It is the same. My brother 
is the man who fought with the Indians. Then he must 
have seen the maiden. Let him tell where she is hidden 
to a chief." 

So irresistible had been the array of facts which the 
wily chief had brought forward, that the scout could find 
no assailable point in his armour. As a necessary conse- 
quence, he was forced into questions, in which the Yankee 
nation have excelled beyond all others, since his day. 

" What do you want of the girl ? " 

" Have I not said that her father waits for her in his 
lonely cabin ? He is very old ; his hairs are white as the 
snows in winter, How can the old man rest when he 
knows not where his daughter is, the fairest flower that 
blooms in the meadow of his heart." 

" Do you mean to take her back to him if you find her ? " 

This was a poser for the chief, who was very far from 
any such intention. He evaded a direct answer in a 
manner worthy of a witness in a criminal trial. 


■• Mennawau ha3 promised the old prophet that he will 
:ry to find the ' Swaying Reed.' " 

■' Oh, you are a knowing one," thought Salvation. " But 
I'll try you in another way yet." Then he added, aloud : 
" "What will you do for the man who can show you where 
the ' Swaying Reed ' is hidden ? " 

" If the Long Arms will speak, and tell the chief where 
she has been hidden, he shall be set free." 

•• Shall I take the ' Swaying Reed' with me? " 
'• Let my brother listen. His tongue is as long as his 
legs, and they are very long. It is not well for a great 
chief to have so long a tongue. My brother knows where 
to find the ' Swaying Reed.' He dare not say that he 
does not, for he will not look in the face of a great chief 
and tell a lie. The tracks in the woods lay before the 
eyes of a great chief like a printed book of the white 
men. They told him how the 'Long Arms ' crawled into 
the tree-top, and listened to the words of Chico — how he 
tried to come softly down, and the limb broke, so that he 
fell to the ground — how he fought bravely against them 
all, and was only taken because a limb caught him aud 
threw him to the ground. Let us talk like men and not 
like children." 

" What do you want of me ? " asked the scout, casting 
a look of admiration at the chief, whom he respected for 
his genius in woodcraft. 

" Tell me where I may find the ' Swaying Reed V " 
" Do you promise in any case to save her life ? " 
" The question is good. She shall not die. It is the 
word of a great chief." 


It! ill HAKLAN1>. 

'• Come closer then, so that the guard shall not know 
what we are saying, and I will tell you." 

The chief drew nearer, and for half an hour listened to 
the words which Salvation poured into his ears. He listened 
earnestly, seldom interrupting him to ask questions. Ho 
described the position of the swamp, the manner of enter- 
ing it, and the fixtures of the island. 

•■ My white brother has kept his word in this. He lias 
t old me all he knows, and the chief will not forget his own 

With these words he left the lodge, leaving the other to 
decide at his leisure whether he had done well in telling all 
1 o the chief. His acute mind had already penetrated the 
other's secret, and he knew that he loved the girl, and that 
she would remain a captive until he could effect her 

But he also saw through the designs of Sassacus. He 
feared that Mennawan. by his love for Ruth, might grow 
soi't-hciirtcd, and stop short of the extermination of the 
rhiglish. The hunter knew him well enough to be certain 
thai Ihc chief would kill Ruth sooner than have her stand 
in the way of his designs. 

"When .Minna wan left the lodge, he made his way at 
once to that of Sassacus. He found him absent, and with 
hint (lie leading chiefs who were his partisans. He at once 
returned to the lodge and set Salvation at liberty, bidding 
him make the best, use of Ins legs in getting out of the 
l'equod country. His rifle was given back to him, to- 
gether with the powder-horn and bullet-pouch. 

*' The way is long to the place from which mv brother 


ame," said the chief. '• But though he may tiro in the 
ivay, he had better go back ; this country is not for him." 
[ Salvation lingered about the village as long as he dared, 
ftut fearing the return of Sassacus, he set out, first asking 
,he chief what was to be done with Ruth ? 

" Trouble not yourself," was the reply. " She shall be 
::ired for." 

, The scout shouldered his piece, and set off at a brisk 
)ace. With his weapons in his hands and a fair start, he 
lefied the Pequod nation. 



Ax hour after the departure of Salvation, Sassacus re- 
:urned to the village in great haste. A runner, one of the 
.petty chiefs of his faction, had set out from the place 
almost as soon as the scout. Though he knew this man's 
errand perfectly, the chief allowed him to proceed, as he 
too desired the return of Sassacus. He found Mennawan 
waiting for him in the lodge, smoking calmly. 

" I hear of strange things," cried the sachem, more ex- 
citedly than ever before in his life. " What is this that 
comes to my ears ? " 

" The ears of the sachem are his own," replied Menna- 
wan, looking at him calmly. " He can tell best what he 
has heard." 

" A runner has come to me to say that the ' Long Arms' 
is gone." 

•■ The runner told the truth ; the ' Long Arms ' is gone," 
said the chiftf. with undisturbed serenity. 



" Why was it done 1 " 

" Because I have a brother who is too fast — one who 
wishes the Pequod nation well, but who will destroy it, 
Are our plans ripe ? Is it good policy to take prisoners 
before we have secured the Narragansetts ? Where is 
Wequash, who was once so great a friend of Sassacus? 
He is with the Yengees, and has told them that the 
Pequods mean to make war against them." 

Sassacus started, for this was new to him. The runner 
who brought the news had only come in half an hour before. 

" How do you know this ? " 

" Kucheca has come." 

" Ugh : " 

" He has brought much news. The Yengees are gather- 
ing men for our brothers on the island, who have killed a 
man, and as they come this way. they demand the men whp 
killed the Yengee trader before." 

Sassacus looked disconcerted. His brother had made 
capital for himself and his faction during his absence. 

" It was not a time to take prisoners. I set the white 
man at liberty, and nil will go well. We shall tell the 
Yengees that Wequash has lied, and they will believe us." 

" It is well," said the sachem, recovering the self-posses- 
sion which had left him for a moment. Mennawan eyed 
his brother fixedly for a short space, and then spoke again:— 

" When we talked before, Sassacus promised to do a 
certain thing. Has he done so? " 

•• What does my brother mean ? " 

" He said he would see the ' Swaying Reed.' Has be 
done so ? " 

'run ii.U'iiKM om-:cKM.VTi:n. 97 

The disconcerted look returned to his fact, but lie an- 
swered, *' Yes.' 1 

•• I went to the village the other day. and the maiden 
was not there. Where is she ? "' 

The other looked at him without answer. 

•• I returned to the village, hoping to see her here. For 
1 said, • My brother has found her worthy to be the wife of 
a great chief, and has taken her lor him.' If he has done 
so, let him bring her, and give her up to me." 

" It is so," said Sassacus, glad of any loophole at which 
to escape. " She is more beautiful than the morning. But 
the white man was in the village, and he might return and 
say that we had taken the daughter of the white prophet 
and kept her in our lodges. I have kept her hidden lest 
he should see her. Now he has gone, she has only to be 
sent for, and she will come to the village." 

" Shall she be given up to me, when she comes if " 

The cunning of the sachem came back with . this ques- 

" What '! Will you take her into the lodge of Meta- 
ruora, and give her the child to keep ? Would it not be 
better that she should remain the prisoner of Chico until 
you have sent Metamora away ? " 

; "' Metamora has been a good wife. She has kept the 
lodge fire of Mennawan bright for seven winters," said 
the other, relenting a little. " The chief would be sad if 
she went away from the lodge, and he would not give the 
' Swaying Reed ' the child to keep. She is too young to 
bear such a burden, and she does not love the child. But 
the lodge of Mennawan is very large. There is room for 


the 'Swaying Reed' and for Metaniora. The chief i 
very wise." 

" Mennawan does not sing in the ears of a dead dog; 
answered Sassacus. '• He knows the nature of a Pequoc 
woman. She would never be content with half a heart, 
nor stay in the lodge of one who had ceased to care foi 
her. Let my brother listen. I will take the ' Swaying 
Reed,' and keep her until Mennawan has told his wife that 
lie will take another in her place." 

'■ Let it be so," said the other, rising abruptly. "Let 
ns go i'lir her." 

•• ^~ill Mennawan do so ? If he comes into the village 
with the ' Swaying Reed,' men will say that he loves her, 
and Metamora will hear it too soon." 

•• Mennawan will not be answerable to a squaw for his 
deeds. I have said, let us go forth and bring in the 
maiden. Why should we waste words 1 Let us go." 

Sassacus rose with an angry gesture. The other had 
forestalled him. The words spoken at the outset told hint 
that the chief was aware that he had taken Ruth prisoner, 
and he meant to remove her to another place. His en- 
treaties were of no avail, and his brother joined the party 
which brought Ruth into the village, walking by the side 
of the horse with folded arms. Sassacus had refused to 
go, but stood in the doorway of his wigwam watching the 
viitrance of the party. He was wholly unselfish in his de- 
sire to keep the thoughts of his brother away from Ruth. 
Nothing short of extermination would satisfy him, and he 
could not go on without the aid of Mennawan, next to 
himself the most powerful man in the nation. That which 


Shakespeare call* " the vice of mercy," had until this 
time been lacking hi his composition. But it was not 
cruelty which prompted the entire destruction of the 
whites. He regarded it as the best for his nation, because 
it would free their land from the hated Yengees ; and best 
for the latter, because it would deter others from follow- 
ing their examples and sharing their fate. The slackness 
of Menuawan, who had been so hot until now, came at an 
inopportune moment for their cause. He sympathized 
with the Indian wife, who would lose the love of her hus- 
band for this stranger. 

He was thinking of her at the moment whep the return 
party came in sight, and an angry light came into his eye. 
But he controlled himself with a powerful effort, as Meta- 
mora came out of the opposite lodge and took a station 
near him, where she could see them as they passed in. 
The brow of the Indian woman was clouded, but she had 
dressed herself in Indian finery to please her husband's 
eye. Perhaps some shadow of the coming fate rested 
upon the unfortunate creature, and she had determined to 
struggle, as a woman might, to maintain her position in 
her husband's lodge. 

The dark eye of the chief, in passing, dwelt upon the 
woman who had been faithful to him so long, in a kind of 
self-reproaching tenderness, as she stood with bowed head 
close to his path. A rare smile flitted across her brown 
face, and the countenance of the sachem became more 
hopeful. It fell again as his glance rested upon the 
captive, and read in her face the beauty which had taken 
the wild heart of Mennawan captive. 

e 2 

1 "' KITH HAHl.ANO. 

The lodge which had been occupied by the scout was 
fitted up for the use of the captive, and lluth and her at- 
tendant at once disappeared within it. Mennawan did not 
return lo the cabin, but stood leaning against a post with 
folded arms. The words which Ruth had spoken were in 
hi? ears : " I gave you bread when you were hungry, and 
you repay it thus." 

He stood in a pensive attitude, watching without in- 
terest the efforts of an Indian lad to mount Tribulation 
(in which he signally failed, or was thrown every time he 
apparently succeeded), when he heard a light step at his 
:-ide. and turning, beheld his wife, who had advanced from 
her first position to address him. 

The chief half turned his head as if to address her, and 
then, seeming to recollect, he assumed an air of haughty 
indifference, and fixed his eyes again on the efforts of the 
boy. Metamora remained in her submissive attitude until 
her lord and master thought proper to again turn and 
notice her. 

•• The place for the wife of a good chief is in the lodge 
of her husband." said he, ut length. "Why, then, is 
Melanmra here !" 

"Metamora is a woman," replied the wife. "She lives 
in t he sunlight of her warrior's smile. If her sun is clouded, 
her eyes rain dew. She has seen that the chief is sad, and 
she would be glad to bear a little of his sorrow." 

" Let Metamora return to the lodge," said he, with a 
proud inclination of the head, " and Mennawan will follow. 
She shall know the sorrow which is upon the heart of her 
chief — she shall bear some portion of it." 


A glad light broke over the face of Metaniora. She 
went at once to the lodge and her husband followed. They 
eat an hour together, and he told her all. Told her that 
he loved the " Swaying Reed," and that she could no longer 
hold the first place in his house and lodge. She sat like 
one stunned, hearing in her stupor his offers to build her a 
lodge by herself, where she might live as a widow and 
nnrse his boy, and teach him how to strike the enemy. 

Then he rose and left the lodge, leaving her to fight 
against the hell of contending passions in her wild heart. 
If she had been less true to her husband, the blow would 
not have fallen so heavily. As it was, it crushed her. 

She sat without movement for an hour, gazing upon the 
face of the boy, who lay sleeping upon the blankets. Her 
agony grew greater as she gazed. 



It is not to be supposed that Salvation meant to leave 
his fair friend at the mercy of her savage enemies. But he 
wisely decided that he could do far more for her free, than 
if he remained in the village. Turning away from the 
beaten war-trail, he lay down in a secluded spot, and 
meditated upon the turn affairs had taken, and the best 
way to free the girl from the clutches of the savages. He 
had penetrated the motives of Mennawan in their inter- 
view, and had told him all he knew, because he feared what 
might be the fate of Ruth if left in the power of the sachem. 
The love of the chief for her would at least save her life. 



A.i he lay there iu the shadow, a footstep stirred th 
leaves. He rose cautiously upon one knee, and looked 6u 
of the underbrush. The tread of the comer was light am 
uncertain, and could only be the tread of a woman. I 
was ; for as the slanting beams of the sun shone througl 
the leaves, they tell upon the bowed head of Metamora 
coming slowly through the forest, with her child in her arms 
The forest woman hp.d wrestled with her anguish until ii 
became too great for her to bear, and then rising from the 
skins upon which she had cast herself after the chief left; 
she put off the gorgeous robes with which she had adorned 
herself to please him, and painted her face black. A 
moment's reflection taught her that this would expose her 
purpose too soon. She therefore washed off the sombre 
colour, took the many trinkets and garments he had given 
her, and left the lodge, making her way at once to the 
lodge in which Ruth was confined. The guard, at her 
importunity, allowed her to enter the prisoner's lodge. 
Kutli faced the visitor with a questioning look; but Meta- 
mora stood motionless, studying the white face like a hook, 
as if she would read there how it was that her warrior's 

heart had left her to go out to the stranger. .She appeared 

satisfied, and said in her low musical voice : — 

" Why has the ' Swaying Reed ' left her own home, and 

come iuto the wigwams of the Pequods ? Were there no 

young braves of her own tribe to be found who wanted 

wives 1 " 
Ruth looked at her in amazement. The chief had not 

yet spoken to her of his purpose to take her into his lodge, 

though he had been uniformly kind to her. 


%i The white girl does not understand," said Metamora, 
with bitter emphasis. " She does not understand, because 
she will not. She thinks it nothing to tread upon the heart 
of an Indian woman, because she has no heart herself. An 
Indian woman has a heart, and she is sad when all she has 
loved and hoped for passes away like a shadow on the sky. 
She was very proud when Mennawan took her into his 
lodge, because he had chosen her out of all the Pequod 
women. It is all the harder now, when she is used to 
being the first of the Pequod women, since Sassacus has no 

•■ What is this to me '! " asked Ruth, in utter astonish- 
ment. " What have I to do with your being the first 
woman in the tribe 1 " 

The eyes of the royal creature began to blaze, as she 
thought she was mocked by the other. 

'■ Do you make sport of my misery ? " she gasped, turn- 
ing upon her in a rage. " Daughter of a wicked spirit, you 
have come to the Pequod village in an unhappy hour." 

"I do not understand you," said Ruth. 

" Have you not stolen the heart of the chief from his 
wife ? What woman was there in the cabins of the 
Pequods who could win a glance from the warrior of 
Metamora, until you came ? And does he not love you 
now 1 " 

" Mennawan 1 " 

" Yes." 

" Do you think, my poor girl, that I would listen to him 
for a moment ?" 

•' You are too cunning for me," replied the Indian 



fiercely. " 1 will hear your words no more. The love 
of Mennawan was all I had to live for. That is gone, and 
now I have only to die, and my boy shall not stay behind, 
to be trodden under foot by those who hate him. I have 
brought you the robes you will wear when you are taken 
into his lodge. I bring you the presents he gave me, when 
he broke the stick of marriage with me by the running 
stream. Take them, since you must, for Metamora will no 
longer stand in the way of the ' Swaying Reed.' " 

•• What do you intend to do ? I will never be the wife 
of the chief." 

" I will not listen to your words,*' almost screamed the 
woman. •■ You throw dust in my eyes to blind me. I 
will not have it so." 

With these words she rushed from the lodge, caught up 
her boy. and lied from the village, leaving her ornaments 
lying at the feet of her rival, who tried in vain to detain 
her. It was at this time that she startled the scout, as he 
lay hidden in the forest. 

'• What's the matter with that woman V" muttered Sal- 
vation. " Looks kind o' wild. Guess it won't hurt to 
follow her and see what comes of it." 

lie rose carefully, and left the place, following in the 
footsteps of Metamora. She quickened her pace after she 
passed him, turning off in the direction of the Mystic, which 
lay gleaming in the sunshine, a short distance from the 
path they had pursued until this time. Salvation, stopping 
when she did, so that their footfalls should come together, 
managed to keep close to her, until she stopped at the river 


By stealthy approaches, he gained a point some twenty 
feet from the spot where she stood, holding the boy in her 
arms. Some maternal instinct taught her to bend over the 
boy ; he looked up into her face with a laugh. She fell 
upon her knees upon the bank, and broke into short ejacu- 
lations in the Indian tongue, addressed to the Indian deity. 
From her disjointed utterances, Salvation gained the know- 
ledge of her identity. 

" See there now," he muttered. " That old thief has 
turned tins woman out of his lodge to make room for Ruth 
Harland, who would see him further before she would let 
him tech her. Just see what a beast a man can make of 
himself if he only tries ! Such a chief as that to fall in love 
with little Ruth ! That Injin woman is a stunner. How 
she loves that old red rip, consarn him ! I'll take the job, 
if she'll agree to let it out, of lickin' that man of hers out 
of his moccasins. Hullo! What is she up to now? I'll 
cut him into tinder, I swow. There she goes ! " 

This last exclamation was elicited by a strange action 
on the part of Metamora She stood erect upon the bank, 
crying out a farewell to earth, air, and sky, clasped her 
boy closer in her^irms, gave a despairing look around her, 
and leaped. This was the end. Goaded by her wrongs - — 

Spumed by contumely — 
Burning insanity, 
Cold inhumanity, 
Into her rest — 

6he fell into the river. Salvation heard the cry, and 
understood it. 

The head of the unfortunate wife of Mennawan had 


hardly disappeared beneath the bright water, when he 
plunged head foremost after the drowning woman. The 
water flashed upward from his descending form, and the 
swift current swept him down a little. 

He rose quickly, watching the surface with an observant 
eve. A few bubbles upon the surface only told where the 
body was rising. In a moment more, her floating hair ap- 
peared upon the surface, and he made a dash at it. She 
sunk before he could reach her, and he dived in pursuit, this 
time seizing her by the flowing locks, and dragging her to 
the surface, with the boy still clasped in her arms. Swim- 
ming to the bank, he bore her out upon the greensward. 
Tenderly us a woman he lifted her head upon his knee, and 
rliafed her hand-. 8he recovered, with a gasp and cry, as 
Mie saw the brown face of the scout above her. 

'• Don't be skecred, gal." said he, in a soothing tone. 
u ^iil tiiven isn't the man to make war upon wimmin. 
You're kinder weak now. Don't try to talk. Yes, the 
lioy — you want, him. Wal, he's all right, I calculate. The 
little shaver kepi his mouth shut, for a wonder." 

•• Why is the Yongeo here ?" she asked. " Does he take 
the right from the Indian to die in the river?" 

'• There there, gal ; you feel bad now. In a little while 
you will be ready to thank me. But don't try that again. 
'Taint the way to do it. 1 forbid it ; and I know enough 
of Injin customs to be sure that you don't dare to commit 
suicide, until I say so. And you may be pretty certain 
that won't be soon." 

" My life is 3'ours," said the woman, moodily. " You 
must do with me as you please. An Indian whose life has 


been saved holds it as the gift of the one who saves her. 
When he tells her to die, she will go." 

'• Now, what's the use of talkin' that way ?" cried Salva- 
tion. '• You keep on that way, and I will git mad. I 
know I will. I ain't the man to take advantage of a 
woman. If I don't let you die, it is because you are 
wrong. Can you sit up now ?" 

•• Yes," replied Metaniora. 

•• Wal, you see here. I don't want you to tell me why 
you have tried to do this. I'm sharp enough to under- 
stand it without. Your husband wants to marry the 
Swaying Reed,' and has put you out of his lodge. You 
come here and try to drown yourself. I step in and say 
no. Isn't that about the right of it ?" 

Metaniora answered by a look of utter despair, which 
weut to the heart of her rough friend. 

•• Xow, don't you take on," said he, quickly. "Don't 
you worry, and we will make it all right in a jiffy. You 
thought a good deal of this vagabond husband of yours, 
didn't you ?'' 

" Mennawan, is a great chief," said the woman, with a 
haughty look. 

•• See that, now. lie turns her out, and she takes up his 
cause in a moment. You thought a good deal of the chief." 

" Her warrior should be all in the world to a Pequod 

•■ Just so. You would like to have him take you back 
into his lodge." 

She gave him an eager look. The great wish of her 
heart beamed out of her eves. 

1^8 HLT1I II.U-.I.AND. 

" That is my answer," the scout said. " It don't matter. 
Now, let you and I put our heads together, and see what 
we can do. I believe that you and I can take her away 
from the chief, and when she is gone he will call you back." 

" Does the Yengee speak of the 'Swaying Reed?'" 

" Yes." 

" Metamora went to her at early morning, and she 
scorned her." 

'• You are wrong," was the quick response. " 'Taint 
like Ruth Harland to scorn anyone. You did not under- 
stand her." 

'■ She spoke as if she would not go into the lodge of the 
chief when he asked her. How could this be ?" 

••I will tell you," replied the scout. "In her own 
village is one whom she loves, and whose wife she has pro- 
mised to lie. Would it be right if she was false to one 
with whom she lias broken the sacred stick of marriage, 
even for a great chief like Mennawan?" 

The face of the woman brightened again. 

"Does the Yengee speak true words? Let him not 
make sport of a woman who is very sad indeed." 

"Don't you think it. Iluth Harland wouldn't marry 
the chief if he was to go down on his knees. Now, listen 
to me. We must get Ruth away from here. Once safe 
in the village, you may be sure that he will never see her 

"What can I do?" asked Metamora, rising quickly. 
" Tell me." 

'• She will do," muttered the scout. "It is all right. 
All I have to do is to keep her from taking the bit in her 

A 1'i.tll LUMlllllill. 


mouili, and ruining the plan by too much haste.'* Then to 
Metamora : '• Look at me, woman. Your life is in my 
hands, and you must do as I say. Go back to the village, 
and go wherever the chief tells you to go. In my opinion, 
you will find that he has seen Ruth, and been repulsed by 
her. He will be angry ; never mind that, for he will not 
be angry with you. He cannot do without some one to 
keep his lodge, and since he cannot have Ruth, he will 
keep you."' 

Salvation took out his knife and began to whittle. 

" The chief has not sent me out of his lodge ; but he 
bade me make ready, and when he brought the Yengee 
girl to sit in it, I should have a lodge of my own, where I 
might live like a widow, and teach the boy to be a great 
warrior. The brain of a Pequod woman is not cool like 
the Yengees. When she is wronged, her head burns like a 
flame. Metamora sought to cool it in the river." 

" Don't try it ag'in. Where do they keep the horse 
they took from me ?" 

" It is an evil spirit. The son of Chico has broken his 
leg in trying to ride him. He goes to and fro through the 

" Good. How many guards are there at the lodge of 
the 'Swaying Reed ?'" 

(i Two, in the night." 

•' Good again. Now we can manage this. Go back ; 
and when you hear my whistle three times repeated in the 
woods, go as near the lodge of the prisoner as you dare, 
and wait." 

" It shall be done,'' replied Metamora, taking up the 



boy, who was tumbling about, unnoticed by them, upon the 
grass. He kicked vigorously, preferring his liberty. She 
turned away from the spot, when a thought seemed to 
strike her, and she returned. 

•' There is one thing I had forgotten, and which the 
Yengee must swear. The Pequod woman has said that 
she loves the chief. Let the Yengee swear that he shall 
come to no harm."' 

" I shall not look for him, and only to save my own life 
and the life of the ' Swaying Reed ' will I strike him." 

•• It is said. If he comes in your way, with his weapons 
in his hands, it is a part of your duty to strike, and strike 

" Remember the whistle," said he, repeating it softly, so 
that she could mark the sound. " Three times repeated." 

Metamora nodded assent. 

" If vou could manage it so that your husband should 
sleep pretiy soundly to-night, it would be a good thing. 
So that any noise we might make would not arouse him." 

" 1 will give him a drink which will make him sleep until 
the morning." 

'• (iood. I wish every man in the village had a taste of 
the same herb. Where will you get it?" 

" It is here," she replied, stooping as she spoke to gather 
an herb growing at her feet. " A little will produce sleep. 
.More still, and the one who drinks will wake on the other 
side of the Happy River." 

She folded the leaves into a small compass and put them 
in a little pouch at her side. With another word of cau- 
tion from Salvation, she hurried away. 


" That's it !" he cried, snapping his fingers. " It takes 
a woman, when her blood is up. Now, for some hiding- 
place, and at night, hey ! for the Pequod village." With 
these words he hid himself in the woods, and whittled all 
the afternoon. 



The night came, and such a night as suited the intention 
of the scout. Before dusk, clouds began to roll up in the 
sky and the wind rose in fitful gusts, feeling damp when it 
struck the face of the man, whittling and whistling in his 
hiding-place in the woods, a mile away from the Pequod 

" Rain !" thought Salvation. 

Rain it was. At seven it began to fall, and he covered 
the lock of his rifle with a buckskin sheath. For himself 
he cared nothing. He had been out in too many storms 
to care for a warm dash of rain. He had chosen a place, 
too, under the overhanging boughs of an old pine, whose 
branches swept the ground, and were almost impervious to 
the rain. 

By the time the storm was at its height, he was ready 
to go, and creeping out of his hiding-place, started for the 
village. The lights were out, and he had nothing to guide 
him but his knowledge of the ground, obtained from a 
hasty view as he left the village that morning. 

Groping his way in the pitchy darkness, in the midst of 
the falling rain, he struck sharply against some object 


which lay in his course. Bending down, he passed his 
hand quickly over and over it, to find what it was. It 
was a strangely shaped stone, which he had passed in the 
morning. Recognising it by the touch, he tightened his 
belt, laid his rifle down by it, knowing that it could be of 
no possible use to him in the village, where cunning was 
the best weapon, and silence indispensable, and prepared 
lor his perilou- enterprise. 

'• The storm is on my side," he murmured. " The 
scoundrels will keep in their lodges. Now, old knife 
another sort of stick to whittle." 

lie kept the knife in his hand as lie entered the village, 
nut knowing at what moment he might run against one of 
the Indian guards, a veil from whom would be ruin to his 

He was soon among the lodges, and pressed on until he 
was in the opening in the centre. He stopped once or 
twice to look into the lodges through the crevices of the 
curtains, and saw the braves lying at ease upon bearskins, 
by the blazing lodge fires. They were nothing to him, and 
lie passed on until lie found, still guided by the sense of 
touch, the post which stood near the door of the sachem's 
lodge. The storm was now at its loudest, and he gave the 
signal, which to the untrained ear was only the whistling of 
the wind about the lodges. Metamora heard it, however, 
and emerged from the lodge. He gave another short 
whistle, which guided her to his side. 

'■ Have you put the chief to sleep f he whispered. 

" Tie will not wake until morning." 

•• Where is the horse?" 


41 He lies outside the village, a, little way from the sacred 

" "What is the sacred stone ?'' 

She whispered a description in his ear, and he recognised 
the place where he had left his rifle. 

'• Are the guards at their posts ?" he asked. 

'• Yes. Saybosay lies at the back of the lodge, but he 
is sleepy. Sangaree is at the door." 

"Does anyone lie in the lodge except the 'Swaying 
Reed ?' " 


" Xo women? You are sure?" 

" The daughter of Sassacus has gone to her own lodge," 
she replied. 

•' That is well. What arms has Sangaree ?" 

" A hatchet and a knife." 

" The man must die," said he, sternly. " If I could 
save him I would do it ; but he must die." 

•• Spare him not," said the woman. " He is an enemy of 

•• Ah ha," he thought. u He is a doomed man. Come 
oat of the village, where we can talk more freely, and tell 
me what you have done since you returned." 

She took his hand, knowing the intricacies of the village 
best, and led him to a retired spot, where, sheltered by the 
lodges, she told the incidents of that afternoon. 

Mennawan had visited his prisoner soon after his wife 
left the lodge. She stood in a kind of maze, looking at 
the confused mass of Indian finery which lay at her feet, 93 
the iniured wife had left them. The chief came in with a 


noiseless step, and stood regarding her some time before 
she saw hii >.. At length the magnetic influence which 
warns us of the gaze fixed upon us caused her to raise her 
head, and she met the fixed glance of the chief, having an 
expression which she could not misinterpret, even without 
the visit of the chief's wife. 

' : Is the ' Swaying Reed' in good health?" he asked. 

•• How can a bird which is in a cage sing as freely as 
one which is free and in its own woods? The 'Swaying 
Heed' cannot live away from her people." 

" The Pequod country is not a cage," replied Mennawan. 
•■ The • Swaying Reed ' may whisper as she will, and none 
shall say she shall not. Let her make new friends and a 
new home, for she must stay in the lodges of the Pequods." 

'•It cannot be." 

•• It must be. A chief of the Pequods says it, and who 
shall say that Mennawan speaks in vain. 

'• You have the power to keep me a prisoner," answered 
the heroic girl. "Hut my friends will avenge me." 

•• Not a prisoner," replied the chief, quickly. " There is 
a warm fire and a large lodge open for the 'Swaying 
Reed.' It is the lodge of the second chief of the Pequods, 
the lodge of Mennawan." 

-Is the lodge empty .<"' cried Ruth. " Has not the chief 
a wife already .'" 

" It is true," he replied, witli utmost gravity. " But the 
chief is very rich. He can keep two lodge-fires bright. 
Metamora shall have a lodge to herself, and the ' Swaying 
Reed ' shall sing in her place." 

".Among my people a man may not put away his wife 


without a cause. Let the chief look at these things which 
lie at my feet. Does he know them ?" 

•• They are the garments worn by the wife of the chief. 
They will be the ' Swaying Reed's.' Who has given them 
to her?" 

'• Your wife." 

" Metamora is very wise. She knows what is best, and 
has brought these. She will have a lodge of her own, and 
teach the boy how great a chief he has for his father, and 
how he may learn to be like him." 

" Chief," said the girl, coming close to him, " I will 
never come into your lodge." 

4i Why should the Yengee girl waste words. I have 
chosen her to be the light of my lodge. I would have 
struck against the breast of my own brother if he had not 
given her up to me. I sent away Metamora for your sake, 
who has lain in my bosom for seven years, and who is most 
beautiful of all the Pequod girls. I have spared the life 
of the ' Long Arms,' who has shed the blood of many 
warriors. The ' Swaying Reed ' must and shall be my 

" I will die first." 

" You will shrink from the torture. No, the white girl 
must do as I say." 

With these words he strode from the lodge, leaving the 
girl to her own thoughts. The chief returned to his lodge. 
Here he remained some time, until the lodge curtain was 
softly lifted, and Metamora, returning from her perilous 
adventure, and with wet garments from the recent plunge, 
entered the lodge. He did not speak to her, and she 


wrapped the boy in a bearskin, and laid him down near 
by the lodge-fire. 

" Will the chief eat ?" she asked. 

" Xo," he replied, with a gloomy look. 

She said no more, but busied herself with her household 
duties. He watched the motions of her light, active 
figure, as she moved to and fro, with a slight feeling of 
compunction that he had allowed his thoughts to leave her, 
and go after a stranger. Her work done, she returned to 
him, and asked, in a low tone : — • 

'• When must Metamora find a new lodge?" 

" I cannot tell," he answered, in the same tone. " The 
' Swaying Reed' is obstinate." 

Metamora's heart bounded for joy, and her happiness 
showed itself in her face. The chief looked at her closely, 
and noticed for the first time that the garments had been 
wet. He alluded to it. 

" You have been in the water ?" 

" Yes." 

•• The boy has been in the water?" 

'■ He has." 

'• How is this, Metamora?" 

" The chief had no longer a place in his heart for Meta- 
mora. Her heart was very sad, and the river beckoned 
her to come down and rest. She took the boy in her arms 
and tell." 

" A bad spirit came into the heart of Metamora. She 
must drive away this bad thought from her heart. How 
was she saved ?" 

" The ' Long Arms ' pulled her out of the river." 

mutamora's visit to RUTH. 117 

'• It is well. Let not Metamora think that she is not 
still beloved by Mennawan. But a rich chief can afford to 
have two wives." 

She said no more, and after a little he spoke again : — 

" Where is the ' Long Arms V " 

" He went away into the woods." 

" He has long legs. He had better use them in getting 
out of the Pequod country, or his scalp will dry in the 
smoke of a lodge. My head aches. Make a drink which 
will bring sleep to my eyes." 

She started. Even while sne was thinking of the best 
way to do it, he gave her the opportunity sought. Pre- 
paring the drink quickly, she gave it to him, and then took 
his head upon her knees and soothed him into sleep. Thi3 
done, she rose, and made her way into the wigwam of 

" Metamora has come," said she, " to tell the ' Swaying 
Reed ' that she is very sorry for what she said to-day ; she 
was much mad. Her heart was sore for her warrior. But 
the 'Swaying Reed' spoke truly; she did not want to go 
into the lodge of the chief. Listen : you have a friend in 
the forest ; the ' Long Arms ' waits for the night to come, 
and then he will endeavour to set you free. Metamora 
will help. 

Before she had time to thank her, the Indian was gone. 

Sangaree had not slept upon his post. Wrapped in his 
blanket, he paced to and fro before the lodge, with one 
hand upon his hatchet and the other upon his knife. Chico 
had given him strict injunctions to be careful and see that 



no trick of the opposite faction should get the captive out 
of his hands. 

The sound of the falling rain, and the dull sough of the 
wind among the rude lodges, prevented the sound of steps 
from reaching his ears, and the thick darkness hid from his 
sight the dark form which stole slowly around the lodge, 
with something bright glittering in the single ray of light 
coming from the lodge. Step by step, the dark figure 
approached, moving with a stealthy footfall as it came near 
the unconscious sentinel. When only six feet separated 
them, there was a sudden bound, a flash of steel, a dull 
blow, and the body of Sangaree sunk to the ground. 

Ruth, whose senses in captivity were remarkably acute, 
heard the blow, while the sentry on the other side slum- 
bered, unconscious of the death of his friend. 

'• Hist ! there," whispered Salvation. " Are you ready, 

Ruth r 

Placing her hand within his, without uttering a word, he 
led her from the lodge and hurried away from the village, 
until he reached the sacred stone. A whistle, well known 
to the faithful animal, called Tribulation to his side. We 
have said that in danger the animal never failed, and he 
showed his qualities that night. Salvation mounted, with- 
out saddle or bridle, and took Ruth up before him, after 
she had spoken to him first, so that he knew who rode him, 
and turned his head to the north. The Indian woman left 
them at the sacred stone, and returned to her lodge. Her 
share in the escape was never discovered, for, when the 
alarm was raised, she was sleeping by her husband's side. 
Sangaree was found dead, with a cloven skull, the foot- 


prints of the scout were heavy upon the soft soil, and they 
laid the escape at the door of the daring companion of 
John Mason. 

They rode all night, for, half an hour after they had 
started, the moon shone through the clouds, the storm was 
ended, and taking the river for a guide, they dashed into 
Weathersfield at early morning. Mason had just returned, 
and was raging like a lion because nothing had been done 
to recover the lost girl. 

Tribulation shared with Salvation the encomiums of the 
settlers, because he had carried the couple through that 
perilous ride without saddle or bridle, and had not in- 
dulged in any of his " tantrums " on the way. 

The danger of his daughter induced Mr. Harland to 
listen to the advice of his young friend, Captain Mason, 
and remove with his family to Hartford. He was not a 
day too soon, for, soon after, every inhabitant of Weathers- 
field was carried away captive by the Pequods. This was 
the work of Mennawan, who was anxious to recover Ruth, 
and who only saved the party, lest she should perish in the 

Soon after the return of the minister to Hartford, Mason 
and Ruth were married, to the intense satisfaction of Sal- 
vation, who, next to marrying her himself, was pleased in 
seeing her united to his friend and commander. 

Soon after the marriage, the Pequod war broke out, and 
Mason took command of the forces operating against them. 
The exciting scenes through which they passed cannot be 
contained in the limits of a book like this. 

Mennawan took an active part agninr.t them, ever retain- 


ing an intense hatred of the leader, Mason, and his lieu- 
tenant, Salvation Green, aided and abetted by his horse, 
Tribulation, who had his " tantrums " while he retained life. 
Reader, the story is ended. 


fivr '.'•■ : ""'. 







seth jones. 




































MVUA, the Child of Adoption. 












MONOWANO, the ShAwnoo Spv. 








































ESTHER ; or, The Oroson Trail, 




















SINGLE EYE. the Indians' Terror. 




































MAHASKA, the Indian Queen. 


















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^ R 1? A T) T T? ' ^ 




1. 8eth Jones. [Daughter. 34. 

8. Alice Wilde, the Raftsman's 35. 

5. The Frontier Angel. 36. 
4. Malaeska. 37. 
4. Uncle Ezekiel 38. 

6. Massasoit's Daughter. 39. 

7. Bill Biddon, Trapper. 40. 

8. The Backwood's Bride. 41. 

9. Natt Todd. 42. 

10. My ra, the Child of Adoption. 43. 

11. The Golden Belt. [Ranche. 44. 

12. Sybil Chase: or. The Valley 45. 

13. Monowano, the Shawnee Spy. 48. 

14. The Brethren of the Coast. 47. 
16. King Barnaby. 48. 

16. The Forest Spy. 49. 

17. The Far West. 60. 

18. Riflemen of the Miami 61. 

19. Alicia Newcombe. 62. 
10. The Burner's Cabin. 63. 
21. The Block House; or. The 6». 
82. The Aliens. [Wrong Man. 66. 

23. Esther ; or. The Oregon Trail. 66. 

24. Ruth Margerie; or, The Revolt 67. 

of 1689. 68. 

26. Oonomoo, the Huron. 69. 
26 The Gold Hunters. 

27. The Two Guards. 60. 

28. Single Eye, the Indians' Terror. 61. 
29 Mabel Meredith; or, Hates and : 62. 
SO. Ahmo's Plot. [Loves. 6<. 
81. The Scout. I 64. 

32. Tie King's Man; or, Patriot 65. 

33. Kent, the Banger, [and Tory. 66. 

The Peon Prinoe. 

Laughing Eyes; or 

Mahaska, the Indian Quern 

The Slave Sculptor. 


Indian Jim. 

The Wreckers' Prise. 

The Brigantine. 

The Indian Queen. 

The Moose Hunttr. 

The Cave Child. 

The Lost Trail. 

Wreck of the Albion. 

Joe Davies's Client. 

Tne Cuban Heiress. 

The Hunter's Escape. 

The flilver Bugle. 

Pomlret's Ward. 


Rival Scouts. 

The Trapper's Pass. 

The Hermit. 

The Oronoco Chief. 

On the Plains. 

The Scout's Prize; ot,1 

Dutch Blunderbuss. 
The Red Plume. 
The Three Hunters. 
The Secret Shot. 
The Prisoner of the 
Black Hollow. 
Tho Seminole Chief. 
On the Deep.